


Like a Cold Sky Raining (Under a Burning Moon)

by beanside



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Past Brainwashing, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, jesus this fandom how do I even tag for Red Room/HYDRA?, mention of rape/noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-02-14 14:17:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 47,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2194929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanside/pseuds/beanside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Bucky's programming starts to break down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all the amazing writers in the fandom. I'm late to the party, but really. You're all awesome. 
> 
> Many, many thanks to my beautiful wife, nilchance for prodding my slow ass along.

For all the people bustling around the Air & Space museum, no one jostled the man who seemed transfixed by the Captain America exhibit. It wasn’t just that he was dressed like a homeless person, but it probably helped. It was the aura that seemed to linger around him, the way he held himself-impossibly still, arms tight against his stomach. 

Another vet, coming to see the ultimate vet, the guards thought. He had the shocky, hollowed out eyes that spoke of too many nights spent staving off the demons. 

The man stared at the exhibit, seeing his own face watching back. The guards were watching, but not suspicious. They didn’t bother to look past the hoodie and the arm held stiffly at his side. They saw broken instead of cornered. Meat instead of predator. Today, they wouldn’t pay for that. 

Today, he was too busy, his mind furiously turning over. He watched the old newsreel, watching the way the man with his face interacted with the man from the bridge. The way they leaned together like magnets pulling toward true north. The easy smiles. 

“I knew him.”

The man shuddered a little, the memory slipping in like a shard of glass. Two weeks since the base had been destroyed, and the conditioning was breaking down more. He remembered the chair, the agony of the wipes. The cryostasis chamber, more pain, extended for an eternity of white static. Sometimes, he dreamed, he thought. There were fragments that slid away in defrost, leaving ghosts that no wipe ever completely removed. 

He was rarely out of stasis for more than a few days, a week. The conditioning was fleeting, fracturing apart after a short time. He’d run before, he knew. Once, early on, trying to find someone. He’d made it to East Germany before they’d tracked him. He had spent days in the chair that time, wipe after wipe. He’d fought it, until they’d shown him something, a paper. Played a tape recording. 

The wipe had been a relief, and he’d let it take him down after that. Until the bridge. Captain America, a stupid, ridiculous costume of a corrupt nation. Wait. That was the programming. He knew the man. He knew him from a time before the wipes. 

He knew the man. The exhibit said that his name was Steve. Steve Rogers. It meant nothing. And his name, James Barnes. James felt right. But the man-Steve-he corrected himself. Steve had called him something else. 

“Bucky.”

It took a moment for James to recognize that the voice came from outside. He tensed, metal hand clenching with a slight whine of protest. It was breaking down too. 

The man made a face at the sound. He was shorter than the Soldier, but somehow, he knew the man was no less deadly. Another man stood nearby, pretending to study a display on Roger’s shield, but he was blatantly listening in. 

“Barnes,” the first man said. For the coldness in his eyes, his voice was warm, almost kind.

He felt his lips twist in something approaching a sneer. Kindness, like love, was for children. 

The exhibit was empty save for the three of him. When had that happened? 

He backed up away from the display, backing towards the wall. The other man turned towards him, dark eyes narrowing. “Ease back, Legolas. Give him a minute. No one wants to hurt you,” he added. 

The laugh that slipped out sounded more than a little unhinged. 

The smaller man winced, but kept talking. “It’s time to come in, soldier. Let us help you.”

He reeled back into the wall, but the wall moved, a hand landing on the back of his neck. “We will not harm you,” another voice boomed. “But you need to come with us.”

“Jesus, Thor,” the first man, with the kind voice muttered. 

He twisted from under the grip, shoving at the blond giant as he backed into the corner. Thor, apparently. He spat a curse, and felt the knife slip into his palm. 

The smaller man moved suddenly, and James noticed the briefcase in his hand. Could be a weapon, but the real threat seemed to be the big guy. 

“Barton, hold,” another voice cut into the tension. He spun, trying to keep all four of them in view. The newcomer was an average looking man in a perfect suit. 

“Agent Only Mostly Dead,” the dark eyed man shot back, mouth curving in a way that made James’ head spike with pain again. “We had this under control.”

“Son of Coul,” Thor’s voice seemed to fill the exhibit. “You are returned from Vahalla?”

“Three ring circus boss,” Barton muttered. 

“Did you think adding Stark would do anything else?”

Stark. The name had too many images attached, too many memories. Howard Stark, his wife, Maria. A blue car that had been too easy to fix, to watch it skid off the road. He’d checked the kill, but the woman had survived. It had been too easy to kill her, a quick punch on already broken ribs and her lungs had filled with blood. 

And the one he had been told not to injure, the boy--

Someone was screaming. 

“He’s seizing.” The voice seemed to come from a distance, and James tried to force his eyes open. When had he closed them?

The ground beneath him opened, and James fell in, until the sound of screaming extinguished, and there was only darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, these are the Avengers? Gotta say, Bucky's not impressed.

When he awakened, he wasn’t cold. 

It was unexpected enough that he kept his eyes closed, breathing slow. He wasn’t in the chair. The surface under him was too soft. There was something over him, too. Blanket, his mind supplied. 

“Sergeant Barnes?” 

Movement beside him, and James tensed reaching for his blade. Trying to. His arm refused to cooperate, a frozen lump of metal. 

“Don’t try to move yet” the voice said again. “You’re safe.”

His flesh hand twitched, and James felt his lips curl into a smile, eyes opening. Another person, this one dark haired. This time the memory didn’t hurt, sliding into place like a bullet chambering. Green monster, ripping apart a city, roaring his rage to the sky. “дерьмо́.”

“Um. Okay? I’m sorry, I don’t speak Russian.”

He spat out another curse, then forced himself to switch to English. “What do you want?”

“For the moment? For you to not rip your stitches.” The man leaned against a table, shrugging. “What do you remember?”

He tried to shrug, and felt the restraint on his right arm. Looser than it should be, and stupidly easy to get out of. Not yet. He had to play along until he could gather more intel. 

“Do you remember the Smithsonian?”

What the hell kind of a question was that? Of course he remembered something that recent. That wasn’t the question. The question was the man on the bridge, Captain America, and why he knew-

The memories didn’t hurt anymore. It didn’t mean that they didn’t rise up like a wave, trying to pull him under. He fought it for a moment, felt his body shudder, and heard Banner shout something unintelligible, heard a quiet calm voice answer in reply. 

Then wave slid away, leaving clarity in its wake. “Steve,” he said. “Where-”

Banner tilted his head. “Still in DC. Looking for you.”

James lifted one eyebrow at that, and Banner had the grace to look away. “Yeah. Well, Natasha said that there was a good chance you had some sort of failsafe, and Steve was already enough of a mess without watching you detonate or something in front of him.”

“Is that what happened?”

“Pretty much. Just instead of blowing your head off, it just released a neural charge that would have left your brain putty.”

He touched his neck, feeling the stitches that snaked from his metal shoulder up to the base of his skull before he realized he’d slipped the restraint. “And it didn’t because why?”

“Portable EMP.” Stark wandered into view, and this time, his mind helpfully provided more details. Tony stark, industrialist, genius. Iron Man. 

“So, this might be an awkward thing to mention, but I killed your parents,” James hears himself say.

“No, Hydra...and well, Stane, killed my parents,” Stark said dryly. “I read the files, frostbite. You didn’t really get a say in the matter.”

“Tony,” Banner sighs, like this was an old argument. 

“What? He’s loose, and he hasn’t tried to kill anyone.”

“You just got here,” James finds himself saying. “The night. Day? Is still young.”

Tony’s smile is a little brighter this time. “Sorry, though. I think it fried the arm. I can probably get it back up, or I could build you a better one.”

“Leave it for now.”

“But-”

“Stark, shut up. Right now.” 

“But-”

“Just because I haven’t killed anyone doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” James snapped. “I’m sitting here thinking that from what I’ve seen of Banner’s reaction time, I could still snap your neck and be out the door before he goes green. Even with slowed reaction time, even without the arm, I could be two floors down before he-”

“I would not count on that, Sergeant Barnes,” a calm, British sounding man informed him. “Should any threatening move be made, the lab can lock down in 2.7 seconds. Also, Agent Barton is authorized to sedate you if you should make him nervous.”

“Thanks Jarvis,” Banner said. 

“Are we all done with the vague threats now?” Coulson appeared in his line of vision, and James tensed wondering how many fucking people they were hiding. Fucking unacceptable for an assassin not to know how many goddamn spies were in a room.

“I didn’t think it was all that vague,” James muttered. 

Coulson’s lip twitched, something that might have been a smile. “I’m Director Phil Coulson, of SHIELD. The new SHIELD. 

“James Barnes, formerly of Hydra, Winter Soldier branch,” James returned.

“You’re in New York at a Stark facility. We’ve removed all the trackers and nasty surprises that Hydra left in you, and pumped you with antibiotics and fluid. When we first picked you up, your brain activity was dangerously high, owing mostly to the wire that was running from your Fortunately, it seemed to have settled down after the EMP, and here we are.”

“Here we are.” He pushed himself up, swinging his legs off the bed. They weren’t tethered. What the hell game were these moron’s playing? This was who Steve had backing his plays? James was not impressed. “What do you want?”

“A warm and fuzzy feeling?” Stark suggested. 

James couldn’t quite stop the withering sneer that he shot Tony Stark. “I question the wisdom of leaving you alive.” He was beginning to seriously wonder about the sanity of Steve’s teammates.

Coulson made an abortive gesture with his hand. “Please ignore him. The rest of us do. Let’s say that I wouldn’t turn down intel on Hydra, but primarily we brought you here to evaluate whether you were a danger to yourself or others.”

James laughed, a short, raw sound even to his own ears. “Oh, I’m definitely a danger.” He forced himself under control, watching Coulson. This was definitely the leash-holder of the dangerous ones. “And if I want to leave?”

Coulson reached into his jacket pocket, and James tensed, preparing to take him out. There were plenty of things laying around to use. IV cord for a garrotte, pens. His hand was reaching for a capped needle when something brushed past his head, and the tray crashed to the ground, syringes and detrius splaying across the room. “The fuck are you morons on? Winter Goddam Soldier!” James yelled. 

Coulson stilled. “Sorry.” He lifted his jacket away from his side, showing that he wasn’t armed. “Just paperwork for you.” He slid it out and offered it gingerly. It was held together with a paperclip, one more weapon in the Winter Soldier’s hand. 

After a long moment, he forced himself to relax, to look at the papers. His own face, printed on a New York driver’s license, stared back. There was a passport below it, and a couple of credit cards, all in the name James B. Barnes. “What-”

“The blue credit card is attached to your checking and savings account, with back pay. The black one is your AMEX. Deal is this. If you need to go, you can. If you stick with Hydra targets, you can do what you want. If civilians start dropping, you’ll never see us coming.”

James sneered. “Are you going to come for me, Agent?”

Coulson’s lips twitched in a smile. “Nope. Them.” He pointed up towards the high ceiling, and after a moment, the man with the kind smile leaned out far enough to be seen. He had--what the fuck--a bow and arrow? That explained the thwip noise.

A moment later, he saw a flash of red hair next to him. “Natalia Allinova Romanova,” he said sharply. “I owe you a debt.”

She was every bit the Widow he remembered, right down to the gauntlets of the Widow’s bite. She dove off the beam, catching herself on a window ledge, and using it to slow her descent. She landed ten feet from him in a perfect three point landing.

“Hello, Yasha,” she murmured. “You look...better.”

“Better than what?”

“Better than the last time I saw you.”

“Which was-” A sudden memory of her terrified, much younger face watching as the world whited out with cold. There was always a few minutes between when the cold started and before his brain activity shut down, and he remembered watching her fight the doctors as they prepped her for her own cryo.

They’d tried to escape together, he realized. 

“You look much more grown up,” James murmured. “Not my little Natalia.”

She smiled slightly. “Natasha now, mostly. Romanoff.”

He scoffed lightly. “Not even properly Russian.”

“Neither are you,” she shot back.

“How is the shoulder?” he asked, gesturing lightly. “No permanent damage, I hope.”

“No. We heal better than that.”

“So, Зайчик. SHIELD?”

“да. After,” Natalia waved a hand loosely, encompassing everything. “I was on mission when the Red Room fell so, I ran and took on some ‘consulting’ jobs.” She leaned closer, eyes flashing. “And if you ever call me ‘bunny’ again, I will gut you.”

“Always charming, our Talia,” he murmured. “I thought you liked Зайчик.” His smile felt unfamiliar, but real.

“I was seventeen, James. I liked many things.” She shrugged gracefully, and anyone but James wouldn’t know she was preparing for a fight. The faint sound of a bowstring being pulled back made the metal hand itch. 

For a moment, James was quiet, waiting for his mind to settle. “Do you have paper?” he asked abruptly.

“Jesus, are we going to have to teach you to touch type, too?” Tony sighed.

“Fuck you, Stark.” 

Coulson handed him paper, and pulled an empty instrument tray over for him to write on.

It took hours, and multiple pieces of paper, multiple pens. By the time he finished, his right hand was cramped and sore. There was food in front of him, and a sealed bottle of water. “This is what I remember. They’d be stupid not to get rid of as much as possible, even if they think I’m loyal. Too much of it made it online. Some of this didn’t, and I’ve underlined those.” He took a long swallow of water and pointedly ignored the food. “Tell your people to stay the hell out of my way.” 

Coulson nodded slowly. “You could come in, lead the strike teams officially,” he offered.

James shook his head. “Not yet.”

“And Steve?”

“Not yet.” 

Tony made a slight sound, but quickly shut up when Natasha glared at him. “Nice to know some things don’t change, Зайчик.”

“Gut you. With a dull goddamn spoon,Солнышко.”

James felt a genuine, lopsided smile touch his mouth. “Sounds like fun.” He looked back at Stark. “You think you can do better than this?” He gestured to his metal arm. “I wouldn’t say no to something a little lighter.”

“With my eyes closed,” Tony said. “We scanned it while you were out, so I’ve got the dimensions. I’d have to find a doctor who could do the neural feedback, but it’s amazing what cash will do.” 

James shook his head. “I wouldn’t know.” He focused for a moment on the arm, and felt the servos come back to life. “Also, Jesus wept, Stark. Do you really think you’re the first one who’s tried and EMP? You brought a fucking assassin with over three hundred confirmed kills into your home, and didn’t bother to make sure he’d stay the fuck where you put him?” He shook his head, stalking towards the door. 

“To be fair, we weren’t just bringing in an assassin. We were bringing Steve’s friend in from the cold.” 

James stopped, breathing deeply. “He really does spread his stupid around, doesn’t he? You can’t bring one without bringing the Soldier, too.”

“Yasha,” Natalia said softly. Only he would hear the warning in the light tone. 

He turned back, letting his gaze linger on each face, familiar and not. “Until the Red Room and Hydra broke me, the only one who ever held my leash was Stevie. Now?” He spread his hands out from his sides. “Look ma, no strings.” His smile had Barton pulling back his bowstring. He looked up sharply. “Don’t do that. Natalia seems fond of you, and she wouldn’t thank me for breaking her toys.”

Natasha moved between one breath and the next, and suddenly, she was next to him. “Yasha.” Her fingers laid lightly against the metal arm.

After a moment, he sighed. “только для вас.” He took her hand in his flesh and blood hand and bent, kissing the skin lightly. 

Tony strolled over, the casual stride and posture a little too studied to be thoughtless. 

“I’m not kissing you,” James said, squaring his shoulders back, and tightening his metal hand. 

Tony eyed him for a long moment. “Nah, sorry. I’ve become inured to dealing with my old teenage crushes.” He held out a cell phone and a small envelope. “Here. These should help some.”

James opened the envelope to find something that looked like bloodless flesh, pooled at the bottom. “What the-” He lifted it out, finding a well crafted arm. It might not cover close scrutiny, but it would let him pass. “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

“Captain Rogers tends to inspire a certain brand of loyalty,” Natasha murmured. 

“Ah, Natashenka, already throwing me over for the good Captain?”

She flashed him a smile. “As if you wouldn’t do the same?”

James found that he didn't really have an answer for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> дерьмо́. Shit.
> 
> Зайчик. Bunny
> 
> Солнышко. (literally, sun) More frequently used to mean "honey" or "sweetheart."
> 
> только для вас. Only for you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. From here on out, I'll try to do at least once a week, maybe more if the writing is going well.

The AI lit his way out of the building by virtue of a back door. A broad man in a dark suit waited for him outside of the loading dock. He held out a duffel bag silently. “Mr. Stark had one other thing for you. He asked me to pass along that you should get off the street level as soon as possible.”

James jerked his chin in something that might have been a nod, and slung the bag over his shoulder. It was probably tagged. If they hadn’t put a GPS on something while he was unconscious, then they were morons. 

Even discounting the rest, Natalia would have put a tracker on him. James followed the next subway stairwell down, pulling his jacket tighter and tugging his hat down. Despite the grinding when he put pressure on it, the metal hand popped the lock on the service door. He was five stations away before he paused to check the bag. It held clothing, a small tool kit, and some cash. The bag and clothing he left there. But the cash and tools, he stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie. It would hold until he could pick up another bag. 

The sun was setting when he shoved a grate aside and pulled himself out into the Brooklyn street. Five minutes later, he had new clothes and a bag purchased for more money than he’d made in a year before. When he’d looked closer at the cash, he’d realized that it was primarily twenties and fifties, and a lot of both. It wasn’t that he didn’t expect inflation. He’d done some covert work that required him to know how to handle cash, but most of it had been in yen or rubles. Also, he hadn’t had the voice in his head telling him how much of Steve’s medicines he could have bought with what he had in his hand. 

He’d assumed it was Steve’s voice, but no. Steve’s voice, even in his memories is strong. He could barely breathe sometimes, but his voice barely faltered. (except when you would put iodine on his knuckles, or when you’d--oh.)

It wasn’t a memory, not exactly. A feeling? James steadied himself against the wall, something low in his gut blooming slowly. It stirred more memories, good and bad. Steve smiling up with him, blood on his teeth from a wayward punch. Steve, asleep and breathing easy for the first time in days. The mix of love/mine/want that was wrapped up in one Steven G. Rogers. 

Fear. Steve coughing up blood, bruises blooming along his sides from a cracked rib. The piss-soaked smell of HYDRA’s prison cells, and the fire running through his veins on the lab table.

“Are you okay, dude?” 

James thought he nodded, but the voice moved closer. “Seriously. Take a breath. I can call someone for you?” Bootheels clicked against the concrete, and James lurched away from the sound, holding the metal hand in front of him like it was Steve’s shield. 

“Kate? Katie, Kate, don’t you--Observe only!” a tinny voice barked. 

James glanced up, at the woman--child really. “Observe?” 

She shrugged, easing back on the bow she was holding. “Nat figured that you’d recognize anyone else.”

“Nat?” He glanced at the arrow tip, noting the vial on it. “Sedative?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. For what it’s worth, Natasha didn’t think you’d need it.”

“Nat- Fucking American’s with your nicknames.” He moved quickly, metal hand shoving the arrowtip away as his flesh hand grabbed the cellphone off her belt. 

“Fucking hey, that’s mine!”

“Are you fucking kidding? Sending a child after me?” 

“Hello, _Hawkeye,_ ” the kid, no--the fucking infant-- says, reaching around his metal hand like she could grab the phone. 

“Stop that,” James said firmly, reaching for her throat.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn’t a conscious decision. She had made him, cornered him and tried to tranq him. If there was a rule that had been hammered into the winter soldier programming, it was that contact was not tolerated. Any who saw the Asset were expendable. Leave no witness alive. 

No. That wasn’t him anymore. 

He stopped himself just as his hand brushed the collar of her shirt, arresting his hands momentum at the last moment. Instead, he put his palm out, like he’d seen some kid do a couple missions ago. 

She stomped on his instep hard enough that even he flinched, and followed it with a solid punch to his throat. Maybe not such an infant. He grabbed her ankle before it could connect with his balls. “No,” he said hoarsely, using his metal hand to massage his aching trachea. 

She lowered her foot, stepping back. “May I have my cellphone back now?” Kate asked with exaggerated courtesy.

“In one moment.” He put it back to his ear. “Still there?” 

“Is Kate okay?” Barton asked. “Cause I swear to-”

“Your protege is fine. Say hello, Kate.”

“We’re good, Hawkeye.”

“How many people do you have following me?”

“No one until you started shedding gps transponders, then...a few. Kate has good eyes and a gift for remembering faces.”

James sighed. “Fine. There’s a hydra safehouse just off the waterfront in Boston. I’ll meet you at the Legal at Long Wharf at o-four hundred. Bring some explosive arrow heads.” 

“What should Nat bring?”

James felt his lips curve in a humorless smile. “Just herself, птенец.” 

“You do know that I speak eleven languages.”

“I counted on Russian being one, considering.”

“I’m glad you’re back, Barnes.”

“What?” James blinked. It wasn’t what he expected. “Why the fuck-”

“It’s tough, living up to a first love. Now Natasha’ll have plenty of time to see that you’re just as big an asshole as the rest of us.”

James barked a short laugh. “No doubts there.” He eyed Kate. “I’m going to give the phone back to младенец. Then, I’m going to catch a train.”

“Sure you don’t want a lift?” 

“Barton, I don’t need to look at your ugly mug any longer than I need to.” 

“Security’s gotten tighter since you and Steve played hobo, dude. Also, less dinosaur attacks.”

“You and Stevie must be utter terrors. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy than Stark.”

“Stevie? You’re talking about Cap, right? Cap’s not really a social butterfly, dude. I mean from what Nat says, he’s relaxed some now that he’s thawed, but dude was pretty tightly wound.” 

James blinked. Steve was always a little slow to warm up to people, and waking up in a new century had to mess with a guy, right? “Here, talk to your girlfriend.” He ignored Kate’s squawk of protest, and tossed the phone at her.


	5. Chapter 5

James hadn’t counted on how much the train ride would drain him. Even with the obvious difference between the trains, it still put his teeth on edge to be riding. It didn’t help being surrounded by civilians. Worse, the few law enforcement he could see scattered among the passengers brought everything that the Winter Soldier was to the forefront. 

Shield? HYDRA? Who knew? He wanted to close his eyes, but there was no way. If someone was coming for him, he was going to know it.

A minute later, a tall, willowy blonde slid into the seat across from him. One tiny part of his brain said “pretty.” The rest of it was way too busy screaming “threat.” 

“So, which tracker did I miss?” he asked softly.

Her lips quirked in a way that seemed vaguely familiar, but damned if he knew why. “You say that like I’d tell you.” 

“Jesus fuck, did Stark chip me like a fucking dog?” 

“Not that he told me.” She sighed. “Look Barnes, I’m just here to see you to Boston safely.

“And who’d you piss off for that job?”

“Alphabetically, or chronologically?”

There it was, that nagging familiarity. She’d had the faintest trace of an accent to those words, like she’d heard someone else say frequently. Someone...British? “Which one are you related to?”

“Mmm?” A raised eyebrow belied the answer, but he still asked. God knew, his memory wasn’t always the most reliable. 

“Falsworth or Carter? If I had to guess, you’re way too pretty to be Monty’s.” He tried on a smile that he seemed to remember that Bucky, that the old _him_ would have considered charming. 

“Peggy Carter was my aunt.” The woman unbent a little, and her eyes warmed, so he assumed he’d managed it on the smile. “Back in DC, I was Captain Roger’s neighbor. Nice little charade. After I got to know him, I kind of felt bad about it.”

“SHIELD?” He heard the edge in his voice, and tried to tamp it down. 

“Yeah. Not HYDRA. Director Coulson asked me to shadow you until I hand you off to the Widow and Hawkeye.”

“This is your idea of shadowing?” James asked, trying for a teasing edge to his voice. “Fuck, you really are a Carter.”

She smiled. “Yes sir. Sharon Carter at your service.” She offered her hand. “I grew up on stories of you and Captain Rogers. I wasn’t going to blow the chance.”

He shook it. “Grew up, huh? You know how to hurt a guy, Carter.”

“Aunt Peggy always said you were a flirt.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t think she noticed.”

Sharon definitely had Peggy’s laugh--loud and bawdy as hell. “Trust me, she did.”

“Is she--” 

“Yeah. She has her good days and bad days.”

“I’m glad.” And he was. Whatever jealousy he might have had before, he was just glad Steve got to see her again. “So, what does shadowing the Winter Soldier entail, Ms. Carter?”  
“Mostly making sure no one bothers you. You have things to do, SHIELD wants to make sure you get them done. Once we hit Boston, I hand you off, stay on site to provide backup as needed. If there’s any issues with local authorities, I smooth them over. If there’s prisoners, I take custody.” 

“Last time I checked, I was Hydra’s top asset.”

“Funny, last time I checked, you were the United State’s longest surviving prisoner of war, and for a chunk of that time, SHIELD had you and we failed you. We’re damn sure not going to do it again.” 

“I’m not-”

“Sergeant Barnes, spare me. You should get some rest. I’ll watch.”

Yeah. Definitely Peggy’s. 

James subsided, and let himself relax some. His brain might not be sure, but it was the least reliable part of him. Sharon was Peggy’s niece. If he couldn’t trust that, there weren’t many people he could. 

He could hear the asset disagreeing rather loudly in the back of his head, but it wasn’t the asset’s choice. It was his. And if he didn’t think too hard about who exactly he was, there was plenty of time for that after the mission. 

At the Boston train station, with exhaustion creeping up on him, he ducked away from Carter. He trusted her to watch his back on the train, but that didn’t mean he was sleeping in front of her. There was trust, and then there was stupidity. Stupidity didn’t live long. 

He pulled himself up on the roof of one of the buildings just off the harbor square. It gave him corner to put his back against, and a view of the square in front of Legal Seafood. 

With nothing to do until the Black Widow arrived, he let himself drift.


	6. Chapter 6

He dragged himself awake about an hour towards dawn and knew immediately that something was fucked up. It took him a couple minutes to pinpoint exactly what was wrong. He couldn’t focus on anything. 

The mission should be his priority, but the thoughts kept slipping away. Remember, James. Hydra weapons cache. Each one had a cryo chamber deep under it for the assets. Asset, since as far as he knew, the only remainders of the Red Room was Natalia and him. 

Flashes of memory assailed him again, this time of the children he’d helped to train. Helped to break. Of all the memories, he thought those were the worst. He’d done horrible, unspeakable things as the Winter Soldier, but those paled next to the children. 

A low, repetitive noise drew his attention, and James realized that his teeth were chattering. He pushed the discomfort away and focused on his somewhat hazy memory of the base layout. Thanks to it’s storied history, Boston was a perfect place for a hidden base. 

The thought brought his mind to Steve. He knew that Natalia and the rest expected him to find Steve when he was done, but he wasn’t sure that was a good idea. Steve was a national icon, and a public figure. The last thing he needed was the Winter Soldier in his orbit. 

Wilson had Steve’s back, and the rest of the Avengers. One more assassin wasn’t going to make that big of a difference, metal arm or not. He could probably hack the Avenger’s comm channel, do some backup, but Steve didn’t need him hanging around. Not in this century.

Dammit, focus on the mission.

The guards for the base rotated out, replaced by a new couple who slipped into place at the cafe that was the perfect front. They usually changed shifts about an hour after opening. He could either hit them during open hours and risk civilians or hit at night when their security was higher. 

Steve would hit at night, he thought. 

He wasn’t Steve.

James shivered again, realizing abruptly that his head was throbbing in steady accent to each heartbeat. It had been three weeks since his last wipe, one of his longest stretches since the Berlin wall had fallen. 

Hydra didn’t believe in pushing their luck. His missions had been mostly assassinations or the occasional message sent. You didn’t waste an asset on errands, at least not the Soldier. 

He would hit the cafe just before it opened. It was a risk, but the best option. He needed more information, and this was the best option aside from the one in DC. It didn’t have a long-term cryo unit, and the information stored on him was questionable at best. 

He needed to know that HYDRA hadn’t left him any more surprises in his brain. Needed to make sure he wasn’t a time bomb. 

Eventually, his resolve would weaken. He would feel the pull towards Steve, that a magnet finding true North. 

He needed to be as safe as possible. He couldn’t count on Steve to put him down if programming took over, and Natalia or her archer couldn’t be there all the time. 

With the decision made, he settled in to wait. Natasha and her hawk should have been here by now. He wished he hadn’t ditched the cell Stark had given him. It was pretty obvious the man could track him anyway. 

Wheh the time he’d planned to hit the cafe drew near, he slid down to ground level. Natasha or no, he needed to move. A strange, gritty fog seemed to hang over the streets. With his obvious weapons, and silver arm reflecting the streetlights, he would be conspicuous, but the streets were mostly deserted at this hour. Finally, the cafe was in his sight line. Once, he’d have started shooting before he got close, mowing down anyone in his path. His handlers had a credo of the ‘bloodier the better.’ 

He passed one checkpoint, then another with still no guards. Rifle up, he stepped into the cafe, only to be met by a familiar red haired woman in a Tac uniform. “Want a coffee? It's not bad.” Natasha said, sipping a drink of her own.

“Natalia,” James muttered, blinking at how hoarse and rough his voice sounded. “What are you-” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Where did Stark put the tracker?”

She shrugged cheerfully. “Trackers, I think. He wouldn't tell me. Apparently, I'm too fond of removing them.”

“I don't need or want your help, Natashenka.”

“Point of fact, you kind of do.” She picked up a folder next to her, and tossed it to him. “Take a look.”

The folder was full of technical and medical jargon that went straight over his head, but the diagrams, those were as familiar as anything he knew. “My arm?”

“There were some things that Stark couldn't figure out. He assumed they were coolant or lubricant reservoirs. Then, when Banner got the tox screen back, they realized that it was a delivery system.”

“For?”

“Drugs.” Natalia shrugged. “Which are no longer pumping into your bloodstream.”

“Good.”

“Yes, and no.”

“No?”

“Withdrawal, Yasha.” She tilted her head. “I'd bet you're suffering right about now, judging by how hard you're sweating. It's fifty degrees. Any other symptoms? Headache? Shakes? Seizures?”

“Jesus, no.”

He rapped his metal knuckles on the wooden counter, leaving a slight dent, and stared at it for a moment before the memory of Barnes’ old superstition caught up to the action. “Headache,” he finally allowed. “Visual distortions. Assuming it's not foggy in here.”

“Nope.” Natalia slid off the counter, walking slowly towards him. “Banner gave us some meds for you, to help you wait out the withdrawal.”

Before she finished, James was shaking his head. “No. No more drugs. My metabolism will take care of it soon. Nothing sticks.”

“James, the drugs you were on were calculated _for_ your metabolism,” Natalia murmured softly. “Chances are, they made sure that the withdrawal would be bad enough that it would incapacitate you.”

James shrugged. “Not kill me, though. Too valuable. I'll manage.”

“Fine. Then you'll manage with Clint and I watching you.”

“Like hell. You, maybe. I know you. Him? I do not know.”

“Not willing to trust my judgement, Yasha?”

“My briefing said that Hawkeye was human. No enhancements. Do you really think he could stand against one of us?”

Natalia's lips curved. “Not only stand, but win at least a third of the time,” she said, a thread of pride in her voice. “And at least a few of the times he lost, it was because he didn't want to hit a woman too hard. You won't present that problem.”

“Natashenka, you wound me. Are you saying I'm not pretty enough for your Hawk?”

“I don't really go for the five day stubble hobo look, Barnes.”

He spun, leveling the rifle in his hand. Instead of the bow he'd expected Barton to have in his hands, instead there was a laptop and a pile of files. “I'd suggest we get the fuck out of here. I set the fuse at three minutes.”

“I needed that intel, Barton,” James muttered peevishly.

“I got your fucking intel, Barnes,” Hawkeye shot back. “Now move your pretty cyborg ass.”


	7. Chapter 7

Natalia was already in motion, grabbing a couple of files from Barton and hustling. With an annoyed sigh, he turned to follow them, but stopped as lightning erupted behind his eyes, and everything went dark.

When the darkness faded, James was freezing. Cryo? No. He wouldn't let them—he'd die this time before he-

“Yasha,” he heard from a distance. “James.”

He thrashed in the cold, and felt his body move with him. “No-”

“Barnes,” a male voice bellowed next to his head. “Stand down soldier.”

English. The male voice was speaking English. Kind voice. Barton. Codename Hawkeye. Proficient sniper, best marksman in the world. Hand to hand master. Natashenka's...friend. Not a target.

“Standing down,” he muttered, tongue thick in his mouth. “The hell happened?” He forced his eyes open, looking around the bare cinderblock walls that could have doubled for the wipe chamber if it had more tech.

He was on a quickly deflating air mattress. “Shit.”

“You with me, Barnes?” Hawkeye asked.

James nodded. “I am getting damned tired of passing out in front of you.”

Natalia offered him a glass of water, straw sticking out. “Remember how I said seizures?”

“Yeah.” He dragged his metal fingers through his hair. “So, am I medicated sufficiently now?”

Barton made a face. “No. You want to go it without help, none of us is going to stop you.”

James snorted, forcing himself to a seated position as his ass finally hit the floor, the mattress giving its last wheeze. “How'd you end up assassin sitting, Barton? Short straw?”

“Volunteered.”

Natalia gave Barton a fond smile, and wasn't that interesting. “Barton knows what it's like, Yasha.”

“What, to be an assassin?”

“To be unmade,” Barton said bluntly. “To be turned into a weapon against the people you love most. If it weren't for Tasha, I'd be dead, or still a goddamn puppet.”

James stayed still for a moment, considering. “Give me the fucking drugs before I change my mind.”

Natalia nodded, like it was nothing she hadn't expected. “This is something Banner worked out for Steve.”

His lips twisted. “After I nearly killed him.”

Natalia nodded. “I could say that it wasn't you, and it would be true. But I won't because it doesn't help, and it's also not true.”

“We have red in our ledger,” James said, remembering something he'd told the Widow during their brief flight from the Red Room.

“Yes.” She tilted her head. “So, where's the next installation?”

James sighed. “You'd just follow me, wouldn't you.”

Barton actually laughed at that. “You know Nat.”

“Nat?” James frowned.

Natalia shrugged. “Bucky?”

“Oh, that’s low. I was six, for fuck’s sake.” 

“And instead, you got immortalized with your six year old nickname,” Natasha shot back. 

“I still have a Bucky Bear in my closet,” Barton mused, flipping through the files. “Was there anything in particular you were looking for?”

“Triggers. I know I have some. I need to know what my kill switches are or I’m a danger to anyone around me.” 

Natalia nodded slowly. “I think I know some of them. Most of the Red Room’s...products had the same trigger phrases.”

“And how many of them have you deprogrammed, my Natashenka?”

“Including myself? You’ll be number three. But Alexi and I had the same triggers, and I know Kenisia did, too.”

James felt his mouth curl. “And how is Alexi?” 

“He ate his gun six weeks after he was deprogrammed.”

“And Kenisia?” 

“I killed her.” 

That was why Natashenka had always been his favorite. No rationalizing, no further need to explain. From what he remembered of Kenisia, she had been an arrogant and unpleasant girl. He’d spent as little time as he was allowed with her. She would have found it intolerable that Natalia was known as the Black Widow. He offered her a fond half-smile. “You think you can deprogram me, Natalia?”

“I think I can help you test your triggers. I don’t think you can be deprogrammed until you’re ready to stop running.”

“I’m not-” he started to say. Natalia and Barton both glared at him. “Fine, I'm running. What did you do, Natalia?”

“Oh, I ran. For three years. Took some jobs for cash, built up safe houses and identities. Then SHIELD caught wind, and sent him,” she said, gesturing to Barton. “To put an arrow through my throat.”

“Technically, they wanted a bullet through your eye,” Barton said, amiably.

“What happened that you didn't?”

Barton shrugged. “I made a different call.”

“Ah.” James looked at Natalia knowingly.

“I didn't seduce him, Yasha.”

“Nah, it wasn't that. She just looked so... done. No one who’s barely twenty should look that tired. Like she was just ready to finish it. And I felt the same not too long ago.” He shrugged. “I made her the same offer I got.”

“And here we are.”

“And here we are,” Natalia agreed. “There were so many little things that I never realized they’d conditioned us for. Bland, stupid things that took years to get rid of.” 

“I’m sure I’ll find some.”

“You know,” Natalia murmured. “I looked for you. Even when I was part of SHEILD. I kept looking. Makes sense now why I never found you, but at the time—“

James shook his head. “You wouldn't have been able to get me out. Not alone. I'd have killed you.”

Natalia's phone beeped, and they all tensed. She pulled it out glancing at the screen. “Steve. Wants to know if I found Clint.”

“Tell him I said hi, and fucking thanks for putting me out of a job,” Barton bitched. “I didn't need to work anyhow.' He paused for a moment. “No. Tell him I'm sorry I was in Minsk, and I've got his back, whatever he needs. And thanks.”

Natalia looked at James. “He could be a help,” she said gently.

“No. Not yet.” He did some calculations in his head. “Give him these bases,” he said. “Tell him to pull the data, and blow them.” Minor safehouses, nothing two people couldn’t handle. Not a cryo unit to be seen. There were some things he never wanted Steve to know. Unrealistic, but apparently, he still had his pride. _You’re taking all the stupid with you._

He shook his head. Steve wasn’t wrong, but still.

Natalia nodded. “Good plan. If we keep him busy, he’ll be less likely to brood.”

She texted back, and a minute later her phone beeped. “Done.” She sat back on her heels and looked at James. “What now?”

“Now, we work on my triggers.”


	8. Chapter 8

It turned out that James’ triggers weren't particularly active. “It makes sense. They didn’t really think you needed it. The Red Room and Dept X came up in the Cold War. Much more paranoia. Hydra thought they were safe, seeing as they were SHIELD.

Banner caught up with them in Florida, a tall, dark haired woman in tow. “This is Betty,” he murmured. “My--”

“Wife,” Betty finished for him. “I specialize in bioenhancements.”

Natashenka was holding herself very still, ready to move if he saw Betty as a threat. She'd take him down, if she could. She couldn't.

“Are you in pain?” she asked, looking at his arm where it jointed to his shoulder.

“No,” he replied automatically.

The look she gave him told James beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was unimpressed. “Let me rephrase that, how much pain are you in?”

He considered the question. “Some? I don't really pay attention to it?”

“Pay attention for a minute. On a scale of one to ten. One being pain free, ten being-”

“What Steve did to you on the Helicarrier,” Clint suggested.

James considered that. “About a six?”

Betty gave him a horrified look. “Six, compared to a dislocated shoulder-”

“A fractured pelvis, and a broken rib, yes.”

Betty winced. “Oh. Okay.” 

“How much compared to a wipe, Yasha?” Natalia challenged. 

He made a face at her. “A four?”

Betty made a soft, pained noise before she cut it off, shooting Bruce an unreadable look. “How high can you go and still be functional, compared to a wipe being ten?”

“Eight. Nine is damaged beyond functional, ten is unconscious.”

She muttered something under her breath that sounded like “Fucking superheroes.”

James' brow creased. “I'm not a superhero. I'm...something else.”

She shrugged. “You're close enough. I need to examine your shoulder. Is that all right?”

James shrugged back. 

“Betty,” Bruce said. “I don't know if you should do that.”

“It'll be fine, Bruce. He won't hurt me.” She looked at James, meeting his eyes in a disconcertingly direct way. “Right?”

“I don't think so, but I’m not sure if you should risk-” 

“She'll be fine,” Natasha said firmly. “If it goes south, Barton will get her out, and I'll deal with James.”

Betty’s eyes rolled expressively. “I spent most of my life on a military base. I’m can handle myself.”

“You’re not enhanced, either,” Natalia murmured. 

“Tony's designing a new arm for you,” she said abruptly, changing the subject. “Lighter by a metric ton.” She sat next to him and lightly ran her hands over his shoulder, tracing the connection. “I’m working on the calibration with him. Hopefully, we can get better sensation in it than you have now.”

She laid out some tools and the schematics for his arm. Stark’s if the logo at the bottom was any indication. The arm opened with a contented whir when she tapped the maintenance key out on the star.

James sat still, forced himself to relax, to hold still. He could allow this, something to be done to him. She had asked. He bit his tongue, just to prove to himself that he didn't have the mouthpiece in. He could do this. Think of something—think of Steve. Think about Brooklyn, about France and Italy. And the Alps. Okay, maybe not the Alps.

“James?” Betty asked softly. “Are you with me? If you need a break or to stop, I can.”

With effort, he forced himself to focus on the words. “I'm fine. Finish.”

She took him at his word, and went back to examining the arm. “If you need to take a break, let me know.”

He couldn't fault her for her bedside manner. When he paid attention, she was soothing, talking in a low, easy tone that made him want to relax. It wasn't likely to happen, but he wanted to. That counted, right?

“Before I came up, I checked in on Steve, since he hasn't been back to see the doctor since he got out of the hospital. I gathered that this is not a new phenomena?”

James snorted softly. “No, not really. He always acted like he was invulnerable, even when he was a coughing so hard that he nearly broke in half. Never met an order he couldn't ignore or disobey outright.”

“We're talking about Cap, right?” Barton murmured. The soldier's soldier? Every unit commander's wet dream?”

Natalia met his eyes, a slow secret smile. “After spending actual time with him, I got a feeling that the history books lied a little.”

“Lied like hell,” James agreed. “Some of the early ones...The Commandoes would take turns reading the proofs around the fire when there was downtime. Made it a drinking game. I especially enjoyed the bullshit about Steve looking up to Colonel Phillips like a father figure.”

“I take it that was not the case?” Bruce asked lips turning up in a smile.

“Fuck no.” James felt his lips curl into a barely familiar smile. “Phillips knew he had something good in the Commandoes, but I don't think he ever really liked us. And Steve only cared about Phillips enough to get him to authorize whatever mission Steve picked out for us. Half the time, I think he ended up retroactively authorizing our missions. Stevie had a habit of pushing the limits of mission parameters.”

“I noticed that, a little,” Natalia said dryly.

“One thing the history books got right, though,” Bruce said.

“What's that?”

“He'd walk into hell itself for you.”

James felt his face go slack. “For his Bucky. I'm not that guy.”

Natalia sat on the floor in front of him, folding down with a ballerina's grace. “No. But you're not anyone else either.”

“I'm the Winter Soldier,” he reminded her, tossing a glance at his arm and finding Betty wrist deep in his shoulder.

She shook her head. “No. You're not him, either. You're unmade. A ghost.”

“Since you're so all-knowing, Natashenka, what comes next?”

“You take the pieces you have left, and remake yourself. Some of James Buchanan Barnes, some of the Soldier. Some of the Yasha I knew. Maybe something new.”

“It's that easy,” he said doubtfully.

“I didn't say it was easy. I said it comes next.” Natasha shrugged, taking his flesh hand in hers. “And somewhere in there, you'll have to decide for certain what you're doing about Steve. Hopefully before he drives us all crazy.”


	9. Chapter 9

Betty leaned back, and closed the panel of his shoulder. “There. That should hold things until Tony has the new prototype ready. I pulled out the drug injectors and the tracking device. It looks like it fried when the arm tried to kill you in the Smithsonian.”

“That explains the lack of attack squads, yeah.”

“Hydra's pretty messed up in the US right now. Most of Europe, too. I'm not sure they could mount much more than a token team on US soil. Not with the DOD and NSA swarming over all known bases of operation,” a new voice announced.

James tensed, hand going for his knife and turning so that the metal blocked the tiny woman at his side. She didn’t deserve to be shot just because she was next to him. In his periphery, he saw Barton pull Betty away, putting his bulk between her and Bucky. Bruce stepped forward, hands clenched. Oh. Hulk.

“Stand down, Sergeant,” the man said firmly, striding into the room. James hadn't even heard the door unlock.

The newcomer was about the same height as himself, but thinner. Dark glasses hid his eyes, but James knew they hid one good and one damaged eye. Nick Fury, who he'd shot just before the last wipe, but something else... A handover of information that he’d been sent to disrupt? Oh... _Oh._ “Sorry about the eye, Marcus.”

Fury shrugged. “No hard feelings. You did your job, I did mine.”

James held up his robotic hand, noting that it was running much more smoothly. He nodded thanks at Betty, now in the loose circle of Bruce’s arms. It closed with barely a whir. “I had a little advantage.”

Nick smiled. “I had Cheese. And which of us was still in the building when it blew?”

“You had a dairy product. Also, both of us were in the building. You just happened to get launched out a window, Colonel.”

Natalia's eyes were narrowed. “You didn't mention that you'd fought the Winter Soldier before, Nick.”

“And you didn't mention that you'd known him in the Red Room, either.”

Natalia gave another graceful shrug, and sat down on the bed next to James. “And to what do we owe the honor of this visit? I thought you were handling things in Europe.”

“I was, but the situation has changed in the US, and you needed to be brought up to speed.” Fury gestured at the desk chair. “May I?”

James waved him over with a flick of metal fingers.

“How much of an overview of world politics did Hydra give you?”

“Aside from SHIELD? Almost nothing. I knew there was a high ranking team of Hydra agents in the top team of agents, which they called STRIKE, so I knew to recognize them, but I think your guys killed most of them.”

“Quick update. The world has gone to hell. Hydra wasn't wrong about that. We've got everything from garden variety terrorists with dirty bombs and biohazard to supervillians and alien invaders.”

“Aliens? Fuck, I quit,” James muttered.

“Only the one time,” Natalia assured him. 

“Twice,” Barton shot back. “Thor and the Destroyer totally count.”

“So, Hydra's operations are pretty badly damaged in the US and Europe, but as history has shown us, nature abhors a vacuum. Which means that we've got a half dozen other groups vying for control of Hydra's assets, both physical and monetary.”

James tensed further and Fury gestured. “Not you. With some work, they're all pretty sure you died in the river.”

“Thank you,” James said. The words felt alien in his mouth.

“Anyhow, it looks like there were some parts of Hydra that stayed off the radar even from other Hydra units. They're regrouping, and willing to work with other organizations to get back on their feet. That leaves AIM, the Ten Rings and Von Doom all fighting for power. My bet is that it gets ugly fast.”

“Usually does,” Barton returned.

“What do you want?” James asked. “You didn't just come here for a briefing.”

“No, I didn't. I came here because I need all hands on deck. And that includes you and Captain America.”

“Tell him yourself,” James said.

Fury looked briefly uncomfortable. “He's not taking my calls.”

“You never learn, do you? Steve only follows as long as he respects you. Once that's gone, he'll do what he goddamn well wants to and nothing else.” He shook his head. “Let Natalia call him. He seems to respect her.”

“Do I look like a particularly stupid man to you, Sergeant? Do you think that I wouldn't try every option available to me before I came to you?”

James looked at Natalia, startled. She acknowledged him with a tiny nod of her head. 

“He's very stubborn when you're involved. Won't listen to any of us. He took one unrelated mission, to get intel on where Clint had gone to ground, but once that was done, he made it very clear that he had things of his own that he was handling, and bar a full call for Assemble, he was unavailable.”

“Stupid punk,” James muttered.

Natalia shrugged. “From the bit I've read on his file, this is not new behavior. He tends to go to great lengths to bring you home.”

James stilled, memories and fever dreams sliding up into his head all at once. He'd fought the wipes at first, dreamed while he was in cryo, held on to who he was. It only led to more wipes, more pain. His stomach twisted, and he stood, bolting for the bathroom.

When he came back out, he had himself under control again. “This is a bad Idea, Marcus.”

“I'm well aware of that.”

“No, I don't think you are,” James retorted. “I tried to kill him. I nearly did. I still have every single thing they did to me, every bit of program data from the Winter Soldier. Some days I'm not sure which of us I am.”

“Barnes, you broke your programming when you were hours out from a wipe. I gotta say, I'm not too concerned.”

“You should be!” James paced, glaring at Fury and Natalia. “I'm not safe. I should not be anywhere near Steve. I'm a weapon. Weapons don't decide not to be fired.”

“James-” Fury started.

“None of us are safe,” Banner said suddenly. “Every last one of us are one step from losing it. Most of us don't even have the excuse of our violence being from Hydra, or the Red Room. Most of us took every stop on this path all on our own.”

“It's different, Banner-”

“You're right, it is. Every single civilian I murdered is on my head.”

“Bruce,” Natalia murmured, face softening.

“I chose to inject myself with the serum. The gamma rays weren't planned, but I took that step.” He looked up at James, eyes hard. “Did you? How many steps of this dance were your own, James?”

“Some. See, that's the fucked up thing. It's what Erskine told Steve about the serum. Good becomes great, bad becomes...” He gestured at himself, taking in his metal arm, his tac gear, and its various weaponry. “Bad becomes worse.”

“I killed over 400 people for the Red Room. I got the same fucking serum you did. Am I worse?” Natalia asked, dropping into Russian. He saw Clint look at her sharply, and was briefly grateful that Natalia had him.

“You were a baby, Natashenka. You became amazing,” James replied, still in Russian. “The Red Room did not give you a choice before they destroyed your childhood.”

“Did HYDRA give you one?”

Too late, he saw the neat trap that Natalia had walked him into. “Point to you, Widow.”

She nodded, accepting it for the compliment it was. “Yasha, you were unmade over and over, for seventy years, and you could still fight it. You saved Steve when no one else could have.”

James looked down at the ground for a moment. “Original programming.”

“It always comes back. There was never a way for them to truly remove anything, just suppress it for a time. That's why you were never allowed to stay out more than a week or two at a time. Your original programming was so much stronger than ours. For us, they barely had to suppress it, they just implanted new stories. And even then, you were kinder than you needed to be to us. You weren't told to see to our pleasure, Солнышко.”

James felt his lips twist. “I raped a child,” he said harshly. “Many children.”

“No. They raped both of us. You're a good man, James Barnes. You always have been.”

He shook his head. “No. I never was. Stevie was always the good one. I just followed him and knew he'd do the right thing.”

“You still love him.” Natalia crossed to him.

The simple words made something in his chest tighten, then bubble free. “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of rape and torture in this chapter.
> 
> Солнышко=Russian diminutive, means Sun.


	10. Chapter 10

“We're taking a walk,” Natalia announced, sliding an arm into his. She'd switched back to English, though from what he'd gathered, both Marcus and Barton had understood them. The woman, Betty, too, judging by the soft look in her eyes.

Stupid. He was the fucking Winter Soldier, didn't they understand that? They all treated him like a neutered lapdog, like he couldn't slit all their throats before they could breathe. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Barton move, fingers moving on the collapsed bow in his hand. Choosing an arrow. Idly, he wondered which of them was faster. Probably him, but Barton had a hand on his weapon already. Still, he could pull the knife, throw it into his throat, even if Barton managed to block him, he’d have a gun up before he could get the arrow nocked. Once he was down, Natalia would be-

“Yasha.” Natalia's voice had a hard edge, forcing his eyes off Clint. “Do not break him.” She tilted her chin in a way that reminded him of the child he’d known.

He forced his thoughts down, taking a sharp breath. “As you say, Natashenka.”

“Come along,” she murmured, leading him out to the narrow outdoor hallway. They walked in silence until they reached the vending area, the machines rattling and wheezing along. 

It was smart, James admitted. The noise the machines made would make any surveillance impossible, even before she started feeding coins into the soda machine. 

“Here,” Natalia said, handing him a can of Coke, sweat beading and dripping down the can. 

He held it in his flesh hand and looked at her quizzically. “Natalia, I-”

She waved his words away. “I remember. It hasn’t been all that long since Clint brought me in. That first year was...unpleasant.” 

He snorted, and popped the can open, idly taking a sip. “Jesus, what’s in this?”

“They switched to corn syrup instead of sugar. Cheaper for mass production,” Natasha said with a shrug. “I know Cap has the Mexican version delivered, which still has sugar. Which brings me to the star-spangled elephant in the room.”

James let his face go blank. “Natalia.” 

“I know. You’re not ready. Here’s the thing. You may never be ready, but eventually, as the idiom goes, you’re going to have to shit, or get off the pot.”

That drew a laugh from James. “Natashenka,” he murmured. “Of all the ways I expected you to grow up, when I was allowed to think, I like this one best. Tell me, do you still dance, little балерина?” 

“Yes.” He saw her hesitate, then Natalia leaned forward with a tiny, secret smile. “I own a school, in Manhattan. I visit when I can.”

A secret she hasn’t shared with many, if he had to guess. 

“And do you dance for your archer?” The smile this time is smaller, but true. James nods. “Good.”

Natalia--No. This is Natasha. New name for her new life. She shrugs. “After Insight, most of my personal records were out, and I only had a few things to fall back on. That was one of them. I never let SHIELD know about it. After the Red Room and Dept X, I knew the value of keeping your options open.”

James gave her a slight flash of teeth. “Options are a good thing.”

“After the Berlin Wall fell, orders came down that any Widow in the field was to be retired. Tainted by freedom, I suppose. I went rogue and became a free agent. It took about four years for my body to heal the damage. I got erratic and Clint pulled me in not long after.” 

James has to fight to take a step away from the anger in the Widow's voice. Danger, danger, his brain tells him. He tells it to shut the fuck up.

“Turned out that my brain chemistry was damaged. Much like someone with bipolar disorder.”

The phrase isn't familiar and James blinks. “Huh?”

“Manic depressive?” Natasha offers. “The highs are higher, the lows are lower. The drugs are still working their way out, but once they do, it'll be a rough few weeks. Fortunately, you don't have to go through as much. As soon as your blood levels drop, we can start putting you on a stabilizer.”

“Okay,” he said slowly.

“So, here's the shitty part. We got an altered version of the serum. Faster, stronger, quicker healing. Steve got something different altogether.”

“Meaning what?”

“If the Red Room aimed for specific effects to make us more pliant, dependent, Erskine was like a toddler on a rampage.”

“That whole 'good becomes great, and bad becomes worse’ bullshit?”

“It was. The serum targeted the amygdala, which is what regulates emotions. Ours might fluctuate wildly, but his—it’s on, constantly. It was useful in wartime. Useful in a battle. Perfect focus, overdeveloped sense of responsibility. From the little bit that I’ve read, Steve was always introverted, had a tendency towards depression, but now. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so lost,” Natalia murmured. 

“Steve?”

“It’s been rough on him. He’s been pretty low. When he and Wilson hit it off, I was relieved. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone but Banner dance so close to the edge, and he tried to put a bullet in his head. There were times I really expected Cap to follow.” 

Bucky’s head jerked up, eyes widening. Something was churning in his gut, nausea and denial at the thought of the strongest person he’d ever known-- “No.”

The Widow’s pity wasn’t something he ever expected to see. “James. He’s not okay. I know he had a reputation for not looking before he would leap, but at least he used to use a parachute. I’m not using that phrase ironically. I’ve watched him jump out of a plane from a thousand feet, into the ocean, without a chute.”

“What the _fuck_.” 

“I’m not trying to scare you. Just don’t let him get away with not taking care of himself while he’s fluttering around you, okay?”

James nodded absently. “Deal. So, you and Steve?” He ignored the twist of his stomach at the thought.

“Steve’s my friend,” Natasha murmured. “Nothing more.” She considered for a moment before continuing. “I met him not long after he was thawed. I thought Coulson and Fury were insane. I definitely thought working under him was going to be a problem. The forties were not known for their gender equality.”

“Stevie surprised you, huh.” There was absolutely no reason for the little spike of pride James felt. Still, he felt his mouth curl in an involuntary smile.

“He went out of his way to make sure that I knew he trusted my abilities. Clint was under alien mind control at the time, but once I snapped him out, all I had to do was nod, and he told Clint to suit up, despite the fact that twenty minutes earlier he’d been trying to kill us all.”

“Sounds about right,” he said.

“I didn't think I could have friends in this business,” Natasha said slowly, testing the words as though to see if they were still true.

“What would you call Clint?” he asked.

“Clint is...different.”

“I'm glad, Natashenka. You deserve friends.”

“You do, too,” She returned baldly. “You have friends. Me, Steve.”

“Steve doesn't even know me,” James said, voice harsh. “He knows some dumbass from Brooklyn who died long ago.” He dimly heard the can crumple under the pressure of his metal hand. “Fuck.”

Natasha hummed softly. “I don't think Steve is the same person Bucky knew, either. I don't remember ever hearing about how broken Captain America was. And believe me, I know Coulson. I have heard plenty about him. But I suppose we’ll see.”

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> балерина=ballerina
> 
> I've forgotten to mention, you can always find me on [tumblr.](http://beanside.tumblr.com/)


	11. Chapter 11

Fury didn't press him any further when they came back to the room. The briefing took most of the night, and by the end of it, his mind was spinning.

He’d had no idea how many terrorist organizations were jostling to be the first to lay damage on a post SHIELD Western world. Worse, HYDRA had gone from having major resources to having a large portion of their secrets blabbed to the world. They were down, but not out. They’d pulled back from the bunkers that were compromised, but that didn’t mean much. For every documented bunker, there were two safehouses or complexes. Maybe they didn’t have the same level of technology, but it would be stupid to think they were down.

Plus, they’d formed an uneasy truce with AIM in some parts of the world. And there was a branch of Hydra that had never been touched. Pierce had called them fanatics, holdouts to the old ideology. 

The Hydra of today didn’t like to acknowledge their Nazi past. Instead, they swore by Schmidt-who had been a total believer in the Master Race, with just a few adjustments. His race would have been white and super-powered. 

James sighed, sitting up in the bed that he was propped against. Clint narrowed his eyes, fingers twitching towards the tranq gun at his side. 

“Still me, pal.”

“Good. You need something?” 

James made a noncommittal noise. “Might take a shower,” he said. Natasha had been making oblique comments about him needing to shower and switch to a new strike suit.

“You are kind of ripe,” Clint shot back. 

James let a smirk touch his mouth, and shrugged. “Exactly. Don't want Hydra to smell me coming.” Showers, James decided, had improved quite a bit since his time. Hot water, and a lot of it, better flow, and better smelling. Half the time, when they had enough hot water, it was a murky brown shade, and smelled of sulfur. Not the kind of thing you wanted to spend much time in. 

The army's version of showers didn't even bear thinking about. Half the time, they'd ended up bathing in freezing streams. And Hydra. No. The less he dwelled on that, the better.

He was honestly just doing his best not to think, really. Too many traps and triggers. Too many missions that were still blurry. Too many memories of Steve that weren't blurry. It seemed like the electroshock they'd implanted in his arm had apparently been attached to a small, thin wire that had been fed up into his skull. It had triggered the older memories buried under years of wipes. As a result, Steve was way clearer than anything except what had happened on the helicarrier. It would have been Hydra's last cruelty. For him to get one moment to know himself-to know what he'd been made before he died.

Hydra, to borrow Clint's favorite expression, were a total bag of dicks.

The downside of Hydra's great plan was that his original programming was proving a lot harder to overcome. Knowing that Steve was out there, and in danger. He'd thrown he and Wilson the closest things to milk runs that existed in Hydra—small safehouses, minor labs that shouldn't have much in the way of heavy security—but it still grated on him.

The bathroom door opened, and James reached for the knife laying in the soap dish.

“James,” Natasha's voice sounded strained, and James felt something in his stomach drop. “We need to go. Wheels up in five.”

He didn't need to ask what had happened. He could hear it in her voice. He couldn't stop himself, either. “Steve?”

“Hill called. He and Wilson missed their check in. Iron Man is in route, but Tony was in Toronto. We're closer.”

James was stepping out of the shower before she finished the sentence. “I'll be right there.” It was the matter of a minute to yank the basic tac gear on. The rest would wait.

By the time he made it to the quinjet that they'd parked in a bare lot across the highway, Clint had ditched the stealth mode and was finishing preflight check. His face was dark, jaw set tight. “Any word?”

“Nothing. Maria's scrambling an FBI unit to check the hotel.” Natasha gave him a look he couldn't decipher. “You don't have to do this. Clint and I can-”

James made a sharp movement with his hand. “No. Whatever you're about to suggest, no. I'm not staying on the plane, I'm not setting up the command post. I'm doing what I fucking should have done to start with.”

Natasha's lips curled in a near-smile. “As you say, Yasha.”She almost sounds...fond.

As soon as the plane leveled off, he strode to the back of the plane and started arming himself. The Soldier didn’t need that much. Couple of guns, few knives. The Soldier _was_ the weapon. 

No. Time to be honest with yourself, James thought. _I am the weapon_. Hydra had done a lot of things, but he’d always been willing to get his hands dirty. Bucky Barnes had been no less of a weapon than the Soldier, just a different type. That had been him, taking the shot, over and over during the war. The only difference was who was pointing him. 

When he thought about it that way, the choice was easy. Steve had been his choice when he hadn’t known there was choice, and he damn well would be now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the relatively short chapter! I'll try to get more up later this week. 
> 
> Again, thank you so much for all the kind words. I'm going to try to reply to all the awesome comments later this week.


	12. Chapter 12

Natasha was eyeing him a little narrowly when he finished arming. “Didn’t feel like leaving any for the rest of us?” She slid her hand behind a seat, and fished out a case. “Besides, you’re missing something.”

She slid out a briefcase, and pushed it across the table to him. “It’s one Clint had ordered, but I think it’ll work out for you, too. He’d rather use the bow anyway.”

The case opened with a muted click, and James lifted it slowly. Never take gifts from the Widow lightly or unwarily. Dark metal met his eyes, and James ran a fingertip over the barrel of the heavily modified semi-auto Johnson. “This isn’t-”

Natasha shook her head. “Nah, that’s in the Smithsonian. From what I heard, you didn't make it to that section.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah. Donated courtesy of your old team’s grandkids, mostly. Some stuff from Coulson’s collection, too. That’s where this one came from.” 

“Coulson? Director Coulson?”

“Total fanboy for Cap.” 

“He had a full set of trading cards, including yours. I’m surprised he didn’t ask you to sign them, too,” Clint said, reaching up to pull a compound bow off the wall. “Though maybe after the last time he decided it would be bad luck.”

James shook his head. “I’m not sure if I should be more worried that I don’t understand, or if relief is the right option.”

Before Natasha or Clint could answer, a red light flashed overhead. Clint pressed a button on the bulkhead. “Hawkeye here. What do you have for us?”

“No word yet from Cap or Wilson, but the hotel room was trashed. Some blood stains, but not either of theirs. We got a shot of a goon carrying Wilson on a traffic cam, but nothing on Cap,” Maria replied. “We think they grabbed him at whatever installation they found, but Wilson ran, and they had to track him down.”

“There shouldn’t have been an installation there,” James said. 

“Yeah. Looks like it wasn’t strictly a Hydra op. We’re assuming that they’re connected, but we’re flying blind here. There’s not exactly a shortage of people who’d want to take out Captain America.”

James felt his stomach clench. He’d been thinking of Hydra trying to use Steve, but what if they just--his mission had been to kill. They didn’t need to keep Steve alive to lure him. They just needed a body. If Steve was-. No. He couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ think that. 

They’d landed by the time more intel came through. Hill met them coming off the plane. From the way Barton flinched, he gathered that she normally looked more put together and less beat to hell. “Hill?” Clint asked. “You okay?”

She smiled, teeth bloody. “You should see the other guy. I’m fine. We think we found where Wilson’s being held. Hopefully, they’ve got Cap there, too. Also, we found this.” She hefted a large duffel bag, offering it to James. “The Director and I discussed this, and decided you should hang on to it.

James blinked, taking the bag. Explosive? Too heavy enough to be C4, but maybe a different compound? Made sense to let him carry the heavier load. He unzipped the bag, and nearly dropped it.

A familiar red and white curve reflected the noon sun. “What?”

“Captain Rogers left strict instructions on who was allowed to hold it if he was indisposed,” Maria said, voice gentling. 

“Fucking _punk_ ,” he muttered, flesh fingers closing around the grip of the shield. The feel was familiar, solid and strong. He’d held the disc like this twice. Once on a street in DC, and once years before, on a train. He’d been ready to die that day, as long as it meant protecting Steve. 

He had died that day. Part of him, at least. Maybe not as much as he’d thought, though. His eyes were stinging, and for a fleeting moment, he wished for the goggles and the mask of the Soldier. It had been easier not to feel. Not to care.

His metal fingers traced the rim, the vibranium in both making a low growl. It echoed in his head as he hefted the shield on his flesh arm. He couldn’t not care about Steve, but he could do this. Everything that he’d been made, every nightmare he’d become, he would visit on them, until Steve was back at his side.

“You can brief us on the ride,” Bucky said. “Let’s go.


	13. Chapter 13

The installation, it turned out, was a Ten Rings group, which had Tony cursing loud and long over the comms. They’d offered some of the HYDRA scientists a place to go to ground.

“Makes sense,” Tony admitted. “in a kind of horrifying way. Ten rings was always low-tech. They bought black market weapons, but they lacked a science or engineering division.” Tony shrugged. “That was why they kidnapped me.”

James focused on Tony. “I know HYDRA. What can I expect from Ten Rings?”

“Mostly, straight up muscle. Torture, but of the garden variety type. Waterboarding, hot poker, the usual.” Tony swallowed hard. “Waterboarding. They were really attached to that.”

“Wilson can handle that,” Bucky said, dispassionately. “He’s a soldier.”

“Just be glad it’s not AIM. That would be a fucked up mess of R&D.”

“Okay. Gather round, kiddies,” James said, rolling out the plans for the compound. “Widow, I want you coming in from this entrance. It’s guarded, but you can handle it. Hawkeye, find a clear sightline and help clear her way. Once she’s in, keep them from holding the door. That’s our exit. Widow, same from the inside.” 

Barton snapped a salute, and Bucky felt himself return it. Never mind that he hadn’t been a soldier in seventy years. He glanced at Maria. “You up to coming along?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good. You’re with me. We come in this entrance, and blow it all to shit. Stark, we’re going to need a diversion. There’s a seam to the two buildings here. Can you take it out? Resistance is going to be heavy.” 

Tony grinned, tilting his head. “I have a Hulk inbound. ETA Five minutes. I’ll manage.” 

“Good. Nat, I’m guessing the control room is around here. If you can get to it, go. If not, hold the door. We’ll be coming out hot.”

“Looks like the normal staff complement is about sixty people. Add in HYDRA, and maybe we’re up to eighty, ninety. Watch out for surprises.”

“Any orders from SHIELD?” Natasha asked Hill. 

“They’d like us to take a few alive, but otherwise, lethal force is sanctioned.”

Bucky nodded, tensing as bushes near them rattled. “Just Bruce,” Tony said. Bruce stepped out, hand holding a pair of overly loose pants. 

“What’s the plan?”

“Distract, divide, conquer.” Tony quickly sketched their part of the plan. 

Bruce nodded. “Okay.”

“Do you need anything?” Bucky asked. “To help you change?”

“Nope. I’m good.” 

James felt his mouth open in shock as the man changed. Had he really thought he could get away in time? The shift was smooth, like a bullet sliding into the chamber. Before he could so much as clench his fist, Banner was gone, leaving the Hulk in his wake. 

He was abruptly certain that if the Hulk so wished, he would be a splatter on the grass, nothing more. 

Before he could react, Stark flipped the faceplate on his armor. “C’mon, big guy. Let’s go smash.” 

Hulk grunted, and loped past Bucky, heading for the installation. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. 

Natasha smiled slightly. “Yeah. He takes you by surprise the first time. You get used to it.” 

“Really?”

Her smile changed, a familiar gallows curve. “Would I lie, James?”

“Iron Man and Hulk are in position,” Maria reported. “Here. You’ll need this.” She held out a small earpiece. 

He slid it into place, wiggling his jaw to make sure it was seated. 

“Comm check,” Maria ordered. 

“Iron Man, check.”

Hawkeye, check.”

James had to admit that the earpiece was far superior to any he’d used before. It sounded like Hawkeye was next to him instead of in a sniper nest more than a mile off.

“Widow, check.”

“Hill, check.” Maria looked at him. “Sergeant?”

James took a breath. “Barnes, check. Moving into position.”

He lifted the shield up, memories flooding him as he strode towards the installation. Across the field, he could barely make out the red and gold of Iron Man flashing around the building. He could hear Hulk through Iron Man’s comm. He wasn’t quite sure if that was a roar or a laugh. With a shake of his head, he put it out of his mind, and strode off towards their entrance. 

As he walked, raising the Johnson in his hand, he breathed deeply, allowing the ice tinted memories of the Winter Soldier to slide into place. He couldn’t allow himself worry about Steve, or stray thoughts from decades ago. For memories that should have been clear as day, they were slow coming. 

Instead, he felt his mind go quiet, but not in the Soldier’s mindless focus. It was a softer focus, but stronger for it. Bucky almost missed a step when he realized that this was _him_. James Buchanan Barnes. 

Maybe the Red Room hadn’t made the Weapon. They’d just forced it to obey. 

They met resistance about a hundred yards from the door, a skeleton crew behind the tall fence. The rest, presumably, were dealing with the incursion of Iron Man and the Hulk. 

One of the guards recognized him, and started to relax. “Soldat! Hilf mir!”

Before he could alert anyone beyond the gate, he exhaled, squeezing the trigger twice. The two guards fell to the ground, one with a shrill scream. 

“We weren’t planning on stealth anyway,” Maria muttered. “Gate guard made Sergeant Barnes. Moving in.”

“In place and holding,” Natasha replied calmly, the sound of gunfire echoing behind her voice. 

“We’re good,” Iron Man said easily. “Hulk’s having fun.” 

They had reached the fence, a towering mass of reinforced steel. “Should have had your friend open the gate-” Maria started. 

Bucky grabbed two of the bars with his metal hand and twisted. For a heartbeat the bars held. Then with a shriek that made Maria wince, they gave, ripping apart under his fingers. “Ladies first,” he offered, giving her a smirk.

She stepped through, leveling her Browning at the entrance. “Think we’re about to get ambushed?”

“Possible. Shall I knock?” He held up the metal hand, gesturing towards the door. 

“Sure, should be polite.”

Bucky had to admit, he could get to like this dame. The door was reinforced, barred. It wasn’t enough to stand up to whatever Betty had done to the arm. The hinges shredded under pressure, and the door was tossed to the side. Bullets bounced off the shield and James tilted it enough to ensure that the rebound wouldn’t touch Hill. 

He switched to a handgun, smooth in his metal hand, and started picking off targets as he advanced. 

The entryway was easy to take, even with two of them. The bulk of the forces would fall back to protect the heart of the facility. 

“Why didn’t they reinforce that door?” Maria asked. “They had to know the arm.”

“They didn’t expect me to have any urge to storm it,” James said. “The Soldier didn’t _have_ his own agenda. Fuck, they worked very hard to make sure of it. And if I ever got uppity, they could wipe me, drug me, you name it.” 

She nodded. “Makes sense.”

He saw movement. “Stay put for a second? I need to know exactly where you’re at.” He didn’t wait for her to nod, just spun, throwing the shield with his metal arm as he moved. 

 

Still ricocheted just how he remembered, hitting a Hydra agent in the throat, and bouncing off a wall and back to his hands. “Okay, move.” He started pushing forward, trusting the agent to be at his back. 

 

The shield had damn near sliced the guys head off. Bone showed white though the gaping tear in what would have been a neck. 

“Jesus.” Maria mumbled. 

Bucky snorted as he ducked into the next room, shield ready. 

He almost shot Wilson, standing over a Hydra agent with a blood stained pipe. Wilson turned to face him, pipe ready. He looked from the shield on Bucky’s arm to the gun in his metal hand, and his face did something complicated. “Aw, shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Soldat! Helfen!”=Soldier! Help!


	14. Chapter 14

“Report,” Maria barked, stepping into the room. 

Wilson’s eyes widened. “Steve?”

“Unknown,” Bucky said. “Do you know if he’s here?” 

“He’s not. Are you...okay?” He hadn’t let go of the pipe yet, Bucky noted with approval.

 

“I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh. Yeah. That was kinda it.”

“For a certain value of self, yeah.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about Wilson truth be told. On one hand, Natasha seemed to like him. On the other--he wasn’t sure what, but something about the man just made him twitchy. 

“Sergeant?” Natasha’s voice came over the com. “We found the lab. Wilson’s not here, but there’s a lot of unconscious or dead goons.”

“We’ve got him, Natasha,” Bucky replied. “He found us.” 

Maria handed Wilson a gun and ammo, and Bucky watched in approval as he checked the gun and ammo expertly, and slid the ammo into his pocket. 

“You good to move?” Bucky asked quietly. When Wilson nodded slightly, he pointed towards the entrance. “Extraction point is two clicks due south. We’ll meet you there after we pull down whatever intel we can get.”

Wilson chambered a round and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. No. Lets go.” He gestured towards the hallway. 

Bucky nodded once. “Stay behind me. Watch our six.”

“Got it.” 

“Maria, got a comm for the man?”

She was already pulling one out. They’d brought two, just in case. Bucky gave the other a regretful glance. They’d find Steve. If Hydra had hurt him, he’d raze them and salt the earth beneath while it burned.

He didn’t wait to see if they followed, just turned and started moving, pushing along the hallways towards the lab. By the time he arrived, Natasha was bent over a computer, pulling the files. Despite her steady typing and relaxed shoulders, something told him she was upset. But why- He turned his head and caught a flash of chrome.

“Barnes,” he distantly heard Wilson’s voice as he walked closer. There was a tech on the floor nearby, wrists tied with wires. 

He bent, metal fingers curling into the sterile white fabric of the tech’s labcoat. “Do you know who I am?” he asked, voice low, almost gentle. 

The man struggled, whimpering in fear. 

“Good.” Bucky lowered the man into the chair, flicking the switch to activate the restraints. “That will make this easier, yes?”

“Please, I was just doing my job,” he begged. 

“I know. But now, you have information. Where did they take Captain America?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe,” Bucky replied, tugging his knife out of its sheath. “I’m sure you can find something useful for me.”

“Please, don’t. I don’t know anything. I’m just a tech,” he babbled. “They took him to one of Lukin’s places. Didn’t want to share him with AIM.”

“See, that was very helpful,” Bucky murmured. “How are they restraining him?” He slid the knife back into the sheath, and gave the man a smile.

“Barnes,” Wilson repeated, voice tight as tears began to stream down the man’s face.

“I don’t-” James lifted his metal hand, and let the finger slide over the man’s cheek. “Cryo. They put him in the portable cryo unit. Please, don’t--someone help me!”

James glanced back at Wilson, who had his hand out, like he was trying to calm a dog. “Barnes. _Bucky._ You don’t have to do this.”

God save me from heroes, he thought, realizing as he did that the phrase was familiar, whispered many a time through the battlefields of Europe. He wasn't sure what the smile at the thought looked like, but the tech started sobbing full out. “You're doing very well,” he said, letting his voice go flat. “Not much longer at all now. Tell me where they went.”

“I don't know! They didn't-” He broke off as Bucky slid his hand down to the metal cuff that bracketed his wrist and squeezed gently. The metal squealed a protest and started to buckle into the tech's wrist. He screamed before the metal kissed his wrist. “North. I swear to God, that's all I know. They went north. There's a base, a newer one. Midwest. Minnesota or Wisconsin or something.”

James nodded, and glanced back. Tony had made it into the lab, and was watching with his faceplate up. He steeled himself for the fear, disgust. “Can you get your AI on that? Check public building plans—Lukin likes to hide things in plain sight. Look for larger than needed orders, extra manpower. Any shell companies that reference Greek mythology. Mostly the Titans. Hyperion, Kronos, Typhon. That was always his thing. He thought that Hydra would be like the Titans, remaking the world in their image.”

Tony nodded. “Got it. Jarvis?”

“Starting search, Sir.”

“Thanks.” Tony looked back at Bucky. “What do you want to do with him?” he asked, indicating the tech with a jerk of his head. “Are we taking prisoners?”

He heard the intake of breath from Wilson, and waited for the condemnations. “Maria?” Wilson asked. “What's the status on holding tanks?”

“We have some options. CIA'll take him. Might have more useful info. Might not. Up to you Sarge.”

Bucky felt a faintly hysterical laugh trying to worm up his throat. They were leaving the choice up to him. To the Winter Soldier. He glanced back at Wilson, who nodded, meeting his eyes with a level look.

Natasha stood. “Files downloaded.” She raised one perfect eyebrow and tapped her fingers delicately the desk, waiting for his decision. Wait, no. Not waiting. Memory caught up with him, and his brain decoded the message before he consciously knew she was sending him one.

D-E-C-I-D-E-W-H-O-Y-O-U-A-R-E

He considered her words. Was he the Soldier? Was he Bucky? God, his head hurt. Why were they leaving this up to the brain-washed assassin? There were at least four people in this room less crazy. He glanced back at Stark. Three and a half, maybe.

After a moment, he gave up on that line of thought. What would Steve want him to do? What wouldn't make his face pinch up the way he did when Bucky used to tomcat around the neighborhood? That Steve would have wanted him to let this asshole live. But what would his Captain say? Not Captain America. That was who showed up in the film reels. What would the punk he had fought next to say?

He wouldn't shoot an unarmed man. “Call them for pickup,” he spat. “He'll play nice, won't you?” He bared his teeth at the other man, feeling a surge of petty satisfaction when he cringed away that had nothing to do with the Soldier, and everything to do with Bucky.

“Where's Hulk?” he asked Tony.

“Set him loose on hangar out back. He's not fond of jets. Clint's keeping an eye on him.”

Bucky nodded once. “Well, this was fun,” he muttered, shoving at one of the pieces of hair that had fallen out of the pony tail. Sometimes he wondered why they'd left his hair so long. It couldn't have made maintenance any easier. Probably because it made him harder to pick out via facial recognition. Made him look less like Bucky for those times he didn't have the mask on.

His earpiece activated with a low beep. “Iron Man, need you to come talk down the Hulk. Director Coulson is ten minutes out with the Calvary.”

James blinked. “The Calvary?”

“Uh. Yeah, it's a nickname-”

“I know who the fucking Calvary is, Barton. She shot me five goddamn times in Beirut. She knows I'm on your side, right?” That had been one of the few missions he had failed at. No one had realized that the pretty arm candy on the Ambassador's arm was an agent. The mission had been compromised rather spectacularly.

“Yeah, she knows,” Maria assured him with a smile.

 

It wasn't long before Iron Man was bundling a de-Hulked Bruce back onto the plane, and Bucky was left face to face with one of the only people who had bested him.

“I don't think we've been properly introduced, she said, stepping past Director Coulson to offer her hand. Her _left_ hand. “Melinda May.”

“James Barnes,” he returned. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Welcome back,” she said. “I'd say sorry for the shooting, but...”

“Yeah. I gotta ask,” he blurted. “Where the fuck did you hide two guns and a stilleto under that dress?”

She laughed. “Why is it that all the boys ask that?”

“Professional curiosity?

“Sure, we'll go with that. The stilleto was in my hair. One gun was on my inner thigh. One was in a holster under the fake chestplate. I also had a grenade in the left boob.”

n James blinked. “Huh. That...actually makes a lot of sense.” He'd always wondered why Natasha had looked so much more endowed in certain outfits. “Women are scary as shit.”

“A refrain said by many an agent, usually after sparring with one of the Terror Twins.” Clint said. “We're just about loaded, Sarge. Tony's got a base for us in St. Paul.”

“Copy. Be right there.” Bucky paused for a moment struggling with Soldier's instincts to never question. He looked at Melinda. “Terror Twins?”

“I used to rotate between solo missions, and Strike Team Delta. Clint was always up high, but Tash and I would practice sparring together whenever we could find two suckers who would go with us. Being SHEILD, there were always a couple idiots with more testosterone than brains. Coulson nicknamed us after we caused him one too many rounds of paperwork.”

“You had your own form, May,” Coulson said voice fond. “Sergeant, pleasure to see you again. We'll take care of things from here.”

James nodded, picking up the shield and tucking it under his flesh arm. “Thanks.”

Coulson's eyes followed the movement, and James tensed. “You don't have to hold it like that. Your harness is modified, same as Captain Rogers. Sling it over your shoulder and it'll catch.”

“Oh.” He imitated the movement he'd seen Steve do a hundred times, and felt the magnets or whatever was in the harness catch securely.

“He'll be glad you're using it,” Coulson added. “Right after DC he put you at the top of the list of people to use it if he was...indisposed.”

“Fucking punk.” Bucky closed his eyes for a moment, the knot in his throat threatening to well up. “I’m going to kick his ass when we find him.”

“We will find him,” Coulson said firmly. “You’d best get moving so that your team is in position when we get that lead.”


	15. Chapter 15

By the time he made it to the plane, everyone but Hawkeye had boarded--even Stark, still clad in full armor. When Bucky raised an eyebrow, Stark shrugged. 

Bucky slid into the seat next to Natasha, remembering at the last moment to unhook the shield before he rearranged his spine. 

“So, you look much less murderous than last time we met,” Tony said suddenly.

“Thanks, Stark. Your opinion matters so much to me,” Bucky shot back.

“Jesus, Tony,” Barton muttered slipping past them into the pilot’s seat.

“What? You’re all thinking it.”

“How many times did Howie drop you?” Bucky asked. As the quinjet took off, he felt an itch settling into his skin, familiar from the times the Soldier had been left in his cell, waiting for his handlers to unleash him. 

As far as fights went, the one they’d just finished was nothing. He had way too much adrenaline and nothing to do with it until they found Steve. 

If he was Bucky, _really_ Bucky, he’d know what to do with that itch. Fuck or fight it out. Couldn’t risk the latter. Because they all knew, he wasn’t just Bucky. He was the goddamn Winter Soldier. In the back of his mind, a voice that sounded a hell of a lot like a scrawny bastard from Brooklyn bitched about his mental blasphemy. 

As far as fucking it out--no. He wouldn’t risk it. Too many missions rose behind his eyes, times he’d been told to get close to the target, to infiltrate. Or to train other operatives. The Widows. Their male counterparts. 

Bucky had liked sex. He hadn’t been too picky about what the sex on offer was. Women, the occasional man. But he’d never taken anything that hadn’t been offered freely. 

The Soldier had done what he was told. And if it sometimes tipped him over into violence, they hadn’t cared, just adjusted his dosage-

They’d had to drug him. The realization of it hit like a hammer between the eyes. He remembered sitting pliantly as they briefed him, feeling the bite of a needle into his neck. 

Then, everything tinged red. Aggression, rage. The itch settling into his skin like a fly burrowing. 

Fuck or fight. 

Bucky stood abruptly, and walked towards the back of the jet, away from the people sprawled around them. 

He could feel their eyes on his back, but none of the Avengers were stupid enough to ask questions.

A moment later, he heard footsteps behind him. Okay, one of the Avengers was stupid enough. The footstep was too heavy for Natasha. Probably Stark. 

Bucky schooled his face into blankness and glanced back. Barton tilted his head. “How’s it going?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be flying this tin can?”

“Jarvis has it for a moment. I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m good. Not planning to snap and murder the whole team,” Bucky growled. 

“That wasn’t what I wanted to check on,” he said mildly. 

“Barton,” Bucky said warningly.

“ _Barnes_.” Clint shrugged. “Look, this sucks. It sucks for us, so I know it’s gotta be fucked up for you. It’s been what, two weeks since you broke programming? Now you’re storming bases with the Avengers.”

“It’s been an...eventful month.” 

“Yeah. I’ll bet. I get it, you don’t feel like chatting right now. But if you do, and you don’t feel like talking to someone you’ve tried to kill or fuck, let me know.”

“And what do you get out of that, pal?”

Clint shrugged. “When Loki took over my brain, I killed a lot of people at SHIELD. Friends, coworkers. I caused a lot of damage. But later that day, Steve was looking for someone to pilot them back to the city, and I told him I could fly a quinjet. I had just come back from being the enemy, and all Steve did was look at Natasha. She nodded once, and he told me to suit up. I think, if he hadn’t? I probably would have eaten my gun.”

“I’m not Steve.”

“No, but you’re his friend. His best friend. As in ‘even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.’ I wasn’t around when SHIELD went to hell, but I’d be damned if I didn’t do my best for you when I have the chance.”

It was definite. Steve had been spreading his stupid around to all his friends. Bucky shrugged. “So, where are we putting down?”

The look Clint gave him seemed to say that he saw through his change of subject, but would let it drop for now. “Chicago.”

“Mm. Shitty pizza. Awesome.”

“Screw you, New York boy. If I wanted a frigging pita, I’d get one.”

“Yeah, and if I wanted a slab of dough, I’d get a damn bagel.”

“Both of you shut up about food before I start gnawing on Tony’s arm,” Bruce suggested mildly, lifting his head from Tony’s shoulder. 

Natasha, he noticed, was quietly speaking with Sam. He was shaking, head low as Natasha spoke to him low and gentle. Adrenaline crash, Bucky realized. He’d felt it before. 

 

He watched quietly for a moment until the voice that sounded like Steve got too loud in his head. Then he slid onto the bench next to Sam. It wasn’t until his ass hit the metal that he realized that of all the things that the Soldier could do, comfort wasn’t one of them. 

Then he heard Sam’s too-quick breaths, and he realized that maybe, _he_ could. “Hey, you’re safe,” he murmured, pitching his voice in a way he remembered from the thousand asthma attacks he’d worked Steve through. “Breathe. C’mon, breathe with me.” He took a couple of slow breaths, flesh hand rubbing small circles on Sam’s back. 

For a moment, he was sure that Sam would flinch away, but apparently, he’d take comfort where he could get it. Sam blew out a breath. “I’m okay.”

“I know you are,” Bucky said gently. “You did good. But now you gotta let go. Just keep breathing. You saved yourself. We just were there to open the door for you.”

Sam laughed, a little hysterical. “Fuck, you really are him, aren’t you? I’m gonna owe Steve a steak dinner.”

“That was a stupid bet,” Bucky shot back. “Have you seen the way he can eat?”

“Not a bet,” Sam said. “An apology.”

Natasha petted Sam’s shoulder, and stood, heading to the cockpit. James shifted a little, moving closer to Sam. “Steve doesn’t really hold a grudge. Buy him an ice cream, he’s pretty easy.”

“What about you?”

“Mm?” 

“What do you take as an apology?”

Bucky snorted. “If anyone deserves an apology-I kinda ripped the shit out of your wings, destroyed your car, shot at you.”

“Wasn’t really your choice.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes so hard he swore he saw his skull. “You all are really fond of that rationalization.” 

“Steve’s contagious.”

Bucky felt all his levity flee at the mention of Steve’s name. “Yeah.” 

“What aren’t you saying to anyone else?”

“Are you always this pushy?” Bucky asked, bearing his teeth in a grimace. 

“Pretty much. So?”

“The cryo unit. It doesn’t get as cold as the stationary ones. More cell damage. Not enough to completely stop the neurons from firing.” 

Sam understood immediately. “He’s aware?”

Bucky nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah.” 

“Shit.” Sam paused for a long moment. “Did they use that one on you?”

His shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Yeah. I was moved around a lot, especially in later years. Plus, since it wasn’t quite as deep of a freeze, defrost went quicker. Usually, my ops were planned for months in advance before they pulled me out, but sometimes,” he shrugged again, feeling the shoulder whir softly at the motion. “Situations changed.”

“Jesus. I don’t even know what to say, Barnes.”

“Nothin’ to say,” he drawled. “I’m here, it’s over now.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, it doesn’t work that way.”

“It’s _going_ to work that way. I’m going to find Steve, get him out, and-”

“And?”

“Burn HYDRA to the ground.”

“Then?” Sam pressed.

Bucky eyed him. “What do you mean, then?”

“Then what? What do you want to do with the rest of your life?”

“What the fuck, Wilson. What do you want me to say? I’m going to go get a house with a picket fence, and retire? Shit like that doesn’t happen to people like me.”

“Like you?”

“There’s always going to be a mission. Always someone to stop. Eventually, my luck’ll run out for real.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. You _could_ get out.”

“Like you did?”

Wilson at least had the decency to look embarrassed. “Captain America asks you for help, you give the man help.” 

“You are talking to a bona fide expert in not being able to say no to Steve Rogers,” Bucky snorted. 

“Strap in, we’re coming in for a landing,” Clint’s voice came over the loudspeaker.


	16. Chapter 16

Apparently, by landing, Clint meant setting the Quinjet down on the roof of a building on the Mile that Tony owned. 

Stripped out of the Iron Man suit, he led them down the stairs to the penthouse, gesturing expansively. “Kitchen’s stocked, Jarvis has every movie in existence cued up in the entertainment center. Study’s over there. I’m setting up the computers and intel in there. First bedroom is over there. Hawkeye, you’re sharing with Wilson-might as well get all the bird jokes in right away. Bruce, you’re with me, over here. Widow, you’re in the third room on the left, and Buckybear is across from you.”

Bucky stared at Tony for a long moment, trying to decipher his words. Sometimes, he wondered if it was just him, or if Tony made no sense. “I don’t-”

 

“I’ll bunk with Clint. Sam, you can have the single across from James.”

“Yours is next to the study, for easy war-room access,” Tony told Bucky. “I had them move the dining room table in there for planning.”

For a long moment, Bucky just blinked at Tony. “You’re not-Are you saying-”

Tony watched him struggle for words. “дерьмо́.”” He looked over at Natalishal. “Я в плату?”

“дa”

“Why?”

“You know Hydra,” Clint replied before Natasha could. “You know their tactics and weaponry. And, best of all? They’re afraid of you. Of course you’re leading.”

His bedroom was bigger than the apartment he and Steve had rented. Had more furniture, too. Also, an ensuite bathroom, which he would have killed for. He dumped his bag on the floor and went to sit on one of the chairs that were placed artfully on the other side of the room. 

The leather made a faint squeal and Bucky felt a hysterical laugh try to slide up his throat. If he let it out, he wasn’t sure it would stop. He’d thought that his life couldn’t get more fucked up. He’d been willing to bet on it. How could you top 70 years of HYDRA brainwashing and assassination? Apparently by being the one to lead the Avengers on a mission to save his... Steve. To save Steve.

He damned well didn’t have the right to call Steve _his_ anything. Not after DC. He closed his eyes for a moment, and let the memory wash over him. Steve’s skin under his fist, the anger at the man for making him feel. 

The anger that Steve wouldn’t fight back. He’d just dropped the shield, and _let_ him beat on him. If he lived for another hundred years, he’d never forget the feeling of Steve’s cheekbone cracking under his hand, of him managing to grit out the words that had finally shattered HYDRA’s hold on him. 

He remembered his own voice saying them in that moment. Remembered Steve’s collarbone pressed into his palm. 

Remembered laying on the couch cushions next to him that night, listening to the tears shift to wheezes, and back to tears. Remembered that feeling that he’d do anything to stop them. 

Remembered that just as much as he’d been all Steve had, Steve had been all he wanted. Life had stretched out in front of him with Steve. 

He’d wanted more, back then. Not that he’d ever have asked. Wouldn’t have tainted Steve with his want. 

Steve was going to be great, was great. He’d never understood how anyone hadn’t been able to see it. 

A tap at his door had him reaching for a knife before he could stop. “James?” 

Natasha. He owed her better than to act the asshole and ignore her. He wasn’t sure it would work anyway. She showed an alarming tendency to push that he didn’t remember in the girl he’d know. He swallowed hard, not trusting his voice. “Yeah.”

“We’re ordering food. Chinese. What do you want?”

James considered the options. It wasn’t that he hadn’t eaten solid food since the Helicarriers had gone down. It was just that it usually came right back up. He’d spent too long having nutrients dumped into him via tube for his stomach to handle actual food. Thankfully, the world had come up with a surprising number of options. 

“Do you want to see a menu? Or can I suggest something?”

“Yeah. What do you suggest, Tasha?” 

“Mm. Chow Mein?”

It took a moment for his brain to supply the information on the dish. He’d guessed that his handlers hadn’t been overly worried about his understanding of America’s bastardized version of Chinese food. Still, his memory supplied that the dish was mild and came with rice. Rice was one of the few foods his stomach could handle all the time. That works. With white rice.”

“Got it.” Natasha paused for a moment, but didn’t walk away. “May I open the door?”

“Yeah, c’mon in.”

She was holding a paper bag, emblazoned with the name of a store that he vaguely recognized. “Tony had them send some things over for you.”

“Things?”

“Clothing. So you don’t have to wear tac gear all the time.” She sat it on the floor by the bed, before turning towards him. “He also put in a grocery order. I figured that they treated you the same way they did us, so I added some protein powders, some Ensure. Stuff that I remember helping.”

“I would have thought that a Widow would need to be able to eat normally.”

“We were trained to eat normally, but it didn’t mean that we kept it down. We just learned to control when we were allowed to reject the food. One more way to keep us pliant.”

Bucky couldn’t quite still the shudder. “Jesus. Just when I think nothing can surprise me...” 

Natasha shrugged slightly, and moved closer, sitting in the chair across from him. “How are you holding up?” 

“I’m f--” He broke off at her raised eyebrow. “Yeah. Not fine. I’ll manage.” 

“Of course you will. It’s okay to be not fine. I’ve got your back, Yasha.”

Bucky felt a small smile quirk his mouth. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be quite so...squishy, Widow.”

Natasha’s smile widened. “It’s taken a long time. And oddly, you’re a part of it.”

“I’m a part of your squishy?”

“Yeah. Do you remember when we bolted--Hong Kong. You told me that even though it wasn’t by our choice, it had been our hands--that we had red in our ledger.”

“I remember,” James said, voice tight. He’d expanded his ledger so very much since then. 

“You were one of the biggest entries on my ledger.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Natashenka. You were a child.”

“You taught me to survive. To break free. And I didn’t return the favor. I left you.”

“And I’d have expected nothing else. If you hadn’t taken the chance when it arrived, then I would have been upset.”

Natasha shrugged. “Anyway. I’m glad you’re here. Just like we used to tell each other.”

“It only took a few lifetimes,” Bucky said. 

Natasha left him to deliver his food order, and James finally stirred himself to look in the bag she’d brought. The clothing was primarily neutral colors and styles, with a definite trend towards conservative. Plenty of long sleeved shirts to cover the metal arm. A pair of athletic shoes and fresh socks. 

At the bottom, there was a basic kit of toiletries, which seemed to have considerably more things in it than he’d have expected. He wasn’t sure if he should be offended by the safety razor or be flattered at the number of condoms that Stark Junior thought he would need. 

Since he hadn’t had an erection since sometime before the Kennedy Assassination, he doubted he’d be using them at all. After his attempted escape with Natalia, they’d done...something. Since then, he couldn’t remember ever having any thoughts. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t been used sexually since then, but his pa rticipation was never requested. 

He shuddered a little at the memories that tried to overwhelm him, but forced them down. He needed to focus. Needed to be ready when they found the base. Needed to find Steve. And then- Fuck. 

He didn’t know what, then. He’d thought about revenge. Thought it would help him to burn HYDRA to the ground and salt the earth. And if they’d hurt Steve, he would. But for himself, god he was tired. He hadn’t expected to be so fucking tired. 

Shower time. Definitely shower. Maybe put on some different clothes? It had been a long time since he’d worn something as soft as most of this stuff felt. 

The shower was considerably better than the hotel’s, the water hot and plentiful. By the time he finally stepped out, the skin on his flesh hand was wrinkled up. 

He stood for a moment, flipping through the clothes, before deciding on a pair of drawstring pants and an amazingly soft shirt. The hair tied back with a small elastic that Natasha had given him. His knife slid into a forearm sheath. 

The door across from his opened, and Bucky tensed, turning towards the door, hand reaching for one of the guns he’d laid on the bed. Shadows moved past the door, and stopped to the side, where they’d be out of the range of fire. “Barnes? Dinner’s here,” Sam called. 

“Yeah. Be right there.” James mentally added Sam to the list that included Natasha and Clint of people who could be trusted not to get themselves killed. Tony and Steve were not on that list. The Hulk didn’t seem to require a list. He had yet to meet something that could hurt the Hulk. Bruce...yeah, he was probably on Steve’s list. He’d seemed fragile somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> дерьмо́: Shit
> 
> Я в плату?: I'm in charge?


	17. Chapter 17

Bucky slid the gun back into its holster, and considered it for a moment. The light in the bedroom was changing, darkening, and for a moment, he thought he had lost time. It wouldn’t have been the first time. A glance at the clock proved it wrong, and a low rumble of thunder explained the difference. With a decisive nod, he put the smaller derringer into his pants, letting the shirt cover it. It wasn’t like Natasha hadn’t had six different weapons on her. 

The thunder rolled again, immeasurably closer, and James narrowed his eyes. Was this normal? He couldn’t remember a storm springing up like this before--wait. Tornado in...Russia. Ivanov. It had made his job, a very public assassination of an enemy of HYDRA, much more difficult to make obvious. The only other tornado he remembered was on a big screen as Dorothy wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

The thought almost pulled a slightly hysterical laugh from his throat. Too damn many memories-half of them fake. Much like his ballerina, he had too-pat memories of time spent in Russia as a child, halcyon memories that were supposed to tie him to the cause. Memories of family members, dead at the hands of Western soldiers. 

He could pick out the fake memories now, with time away from wipes and freezing. Hydra had wiped them in the seventies, after his and Natasha’s Hong Kong adventure. After that, there had been no more long missions, nothing that required him to think. Just orders to fulfill. Anything else was deemed too dangerous. And so, his uses had dried up not long after. They'd defrosted him only for difficult assassinations or times when they needed to spread his particular version of discord. The Winter Soldier was the threat, only brought out once in a while to remind the world who he was. And still his programming suffered lapses, times where they'd find him staring into space. The US in particular was supposed to be a no-fly zone, especially the East Coast. He assumed that Pierce had decided that the proscription was overly cautious.

And here he was again, stuck in memories of his past, when he should have been dealing with his new _team._

The lightning crashed again, accompanied by a simultaneous deafening clap of thunder. A moment later, the storm dissipated as quickly as it had started, and James was moving towards the living area. There was something seriously fucked up here. The derringer was in his hand without thinking, and he nudged the sleeve on his right arm a little higher, so that he had easy access to the knife on his wrist. 

There was someone else in the living room. High threat level, six feet, four inches. Obvious weaponry, large _war hammer?_

Something that weird was probably on his team. Still. He slid the derringer to the small of his back, but kept his hand close to the blade as he stepped into view. Wait, that was the fucking wall from the Smithsonian. They'd called him Thor. Like Thor, in the stories Steve had liked? He'd always had a thing for mythology and heroes. 

“Greeetings, friend Barnes! I am Thor of Asgard!” The wall headed in his direction, arm outstretched for a...handshake? To kick his ass? 

Nope. For a handshake of a sort. He clasped Bucky's forearm, the metal one, grasping with enough force that the sensors picked up the pressure. “Hiya. Nice to meetcha.”

“God of Thunder,” Barton put in helpfully. 

“Steve must have loved that.” 

“The good Captain is a worthy shield brother, and a good friend. We have spent much time discussing our attempts at this modern world over Skype since I have returned.” 

“Captain America knows how to use Skype?” Tony asked, grinning. “No shit?" 

“He's been out of the ice for nearly a year and a half, Tony,” a tall strawberry blonde woman he hadn't noticed next to Thor. “He's gotten very good with tech. He just likes to screw with you.” 

“Steve's a total troll,” Sam added. 

Thor looked confused. What the fuck did Bucky know. Maybe they had real trolls in Asgard? 

“He likes to play jokes on people,” Natasha explained. “It's called trolling.” 

“Ah, I see. Yes, he has a very good sense of humor,” Thor said. “I do not think you do him justice, Tony.” 

“After the Serum, Steve picked up new information quicker,” Bucky offered. “He learned French and German in no time. Some Italian, too. Stands to reason he'd pick up tech quickly.

“He'd been in the modern world less than three weeks when you met him, Stark. And the two of you sparked off each other from the start. I don't think you can blame Steve for that,” Natasha said reasonably. 

“Since Tony doesn't see fit to introduce us, I'm his fiance, Pepper,” The blonde offered her hand and Bucky took a moment to shake the sleeve over the hilt of the knife before he offered her his flesh hand. 

“James Barnes,” he said, trying out a smile that felt foreign on his face. It seemed to work, because Pepper (seriously, what was with the names in this group?) returned the smile. “Dinner's through here, if you're hungry" 

He was, Bucky realized. Now he had to hope that whatever he tried would stay down. 


	18. Chapter 18

The meal was quieter than he'd expected, with Thor and Stark nearby. Still the day's work, and Steve's continued absence seemed to weigh on them.

“I went back to Asgard, and Heimdal will be on the lookout. Hydra seems to be shielding the Captain from his gaze, which takes no small sorcery. Until now, I only knew three people who could manage such a feat, and they were all my family. Only my father remains of them. I have asked him for aid, but I know not if he will give it. I am not heir any longer, having chosen to return to Midgard, and Jane.”

“I'm sorry,” Natasha offered. “That must be difficult.”

Sam leaned over towards Bucky. “Funny. I always thought the interpersonal relationships of gods would be a little less...”

“Average?”

“Yeah.”

“Odin said that he needed to consider my request, and would consider the practitioners of seiðr. available. To see if one of them would be sufficient. Unfortunately, few reach my mother or Loki's skill with magic and they both passed without a true apprentice to carry on the knowledge. Now, after a certain point, they'll be forced to learn from books, more trial and error than teaching.”

“S'how I learned how to build robots,” Tony said around an eggroll. “Works better than teaching sometimes. No preconceptions. No one telling your that your ideas won't work.”

“Forgive me for saying, Man of Iron, but you remind me much of my brother at times. Not, of course, the more bloodthirsty parts.”

Pepper and Natasha snorted in unison. “Tony's got his moments.”

“SHIELD had protocols for if Tony went evil,” Clint said. 

“They basically amounted to “Kiss your ass good bye and hope Jarvis and Pepper can rein him in some,” Natasha admitted. “We all knew if Jarvis was on his side, we were screwed.”

“I mean, they had protocols for everyone. Even Cap,” Barton said. “And you know, the HYDRA within SHIELD apparently had even more protocols.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Me.” He looked down at his plate, stomach churning.

“Assuming they couldn't maneuver Nat and I into doing it.” Clint raked a hand through his hair. “We're all dangerous, lets face it. The assholes on the Hill weren't wrong. But neither was Nat.”

Bucky glanced up to find Natasha looking at him. “The world is more fucked up than any of us knew, and we fought an honest to god alien army. And as long as that's the case, we're going to stand between the world and the threats.”

“Aye.” Thor lifted his drink and raised it in a toast. “To the Avengers. In whatever form. And to new allies.” He aimed the toast at Sam and Bucky.”

“Avengers,” Clint agreed, raising his glass.

After the solemn toast was over, Sam tilted his head. “Doesn't Avengers mean that you've already lost one round?”

“We're slow starters,” Clint said, just as seriously. “What was it you said, Stark?”

Tony laughed. “If we can't save the world, we'll damn sure avenge it,” he intoned. “Hey, I was pretty sure Loki was going to throw me out the window in the next thirty seconds. I was stalling. I take no responsibly for the cheesiness of my words.”

They finished the meal in easy chatter, until the last of the plates were cleared away. “Okay. So. Business,” Pepper said, placing a small box in the middle of the table. “Jarvis, what have you found so far?”

A holographic screen sprung to life above the box. “I have cross-referenced Aleksander Lukin's businesses, and found multiple shell corporations that seem to be HYDRA fronts. Currently, I have found multiple Midwestern based construction projects, most not large enough to cover a base of any useful size. Still, with current parameters, I have found ten possible locations, scattered over eight states.”

The view changed, showing multiple locations. “Not St. Louis. That would have been taken out with DC,” Bucky said immediately. “That was the secondary headquarters. I know it was in the things Natasha leaked.”

“The AFT raided it last week,” Jarvis agreed. “I have also ruled out the South Dakota and Arkansas locations. 

“Which companies are involved in the remaining ones?” The display changed to show five different corporations. 

“Pull up the fourth one,” Bucky requested. “Coeus.”

“I’ve found several offshoots of this company,” Jarvis informed him.

“Asteria.”

“You remember something?” Tony asked.

“Yeah. There was a huge project awhile ago. Maybe four defrosts ago? Hard to correlate to an actual time frame.”

“Asteria breaks down into the Twelfth holdings and Triple Five holdings,” Jarvis said. “Of the two, the one that does far larger projects is Triple Five.”

“Look within the last Thirty years, but no newer than ten years old. I’m pretty sure it was after the Kennedy assassination.”

“They’ve had many projects within that time, most in the Midwest. The largest of the projects broke ground in 1989, with--

“The Mall of America?” Tony interrupted. “Well, it’s big enough to cover a lot of construction.”

Bucky looked at the name blankly. “I--that means nothing to me.”

“Worlds largest shopping mall.”

“I’m guessing you mean a little bigger than Macy’s on 34th street.”

“It has a roller coaster in it.”

Bucky blinked. “Okay. That would have to be pretty big.”

“There was a mention of some thefts that Shield was investigating which would have matched to the early building phase. Raw materials that are rather tightly regulated. It would lead me to believe that the base has a nuclear reactor powering it, which is well shielded under the amusement park area. The subflooring is forty feet of leaded concrete, which would certainly keep it from being visible on satellites.”

“Jesus,” Bruce said. “That’s-”

“Terrifying is the word you want,” Clint supplied.

“More recently, and worryingly, T’Challa, King of Wakanda has reported recent thefts of both Vibranium and more concerning, the heart shaped herb from the base of the Order of the Panther.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a rough couple of weeks for me, and I wanted to thank everyone who's given kudos or comments. I lost my mother suddenly after Thanksgiving and I gotta say that you, and the other Bucky/Steve authors have helped to keep my sanity intact as it ever is.


	19. Chapter 19

Bucky blinked. “Heart shaped herb?”

“Yeah. It's kind of a cool thing,” Banner begins. “It was originally something like the coca plant—The stuff that cocaine is made from.” Bruce pauses. “Do you-”

“Yes, Banner,” Bucky sighs. “They took it out of the coca cola before I was born. I know what cocaine is. Also, I used to buy most of Steve's prescriptions. He was on a lot of morphine type meds.”

“God bless America, “Tony muttered.

“Okay, sorry. I'm not good with timelines,” Bruce says apologetically.

Bucky snorts. “And I am? Don't worry 'bout it.”

“That was _really_ Brooklyn-sounding,” Pepper observed.

“Trust me,” Natasha said softly. “It's only going to get more pronounced as time goes on, if Steve's any barometer. “The longer he's been out of the ice, the less vowels I hear from him.”

“Which of course,” Clint said cheerfully, “we've mocked him for mercilessly.”

“Briefing, children,” Sam said. “Can we pay attention for five minutes so I can go to bed?” They all quiet down quickly, giving Sam a nod of apology.

“Well. A long time ago, thousands of years, we think, there was a vibranium meteorite strike in the mountainous region of Wakanda. It broke apart, and was buried over time. Vibranium, at least raw, gives off a small amount of Gamma radiation. As it seeped into the water table, it started causing mutations in plants, animals and people.”

“That sounds...bad,” Clint observed.

“Thank you for that. The amazing Hawkeye, folks,” Tony muttered, ending on a yelp as Pepper elbowed him. “What?”

“I was just thinking that I'm glad you said it so I didn't have to,” Bucky said, to Sam and Natasha's nod “Small words, Doc.”

“Most of the mutations were beneficial, though a small amount were less helpful. Anyway, the heart shaped herb went from being a mild stimulant to being like a short term, slightly milder version of the Serum.”

“How short term?” Bucky asked.  
“From what they took? One person for maybe a week at most. The problem, is that if they take that, and try to synthesize it, which they will, it won't go well.” Banner's mouth twisted, and he hesitated.

Without a pause, Stark picked up the narrative. “Add in a small gamma device, which would be the only use for the small amount of vibranium, shy of invunerable brass knuckles, and you have the potential for serious damage.”

“What kind of damage?” Thor asked

Bruce didn't look good at all, Bucky thought. Pale, and a little sweaty. “That was what I was researching.”

It takes Bucky a moment to get his point. Bruce was researching the Super Soldier Serum when he turned into the Hulk. The thought of a second monster like the Hulk...

Next to him, Sam’s head snapped up abruptly. “Wait. Is that how-” Sam paused, seeming to try to collect his thoughts. He too, looked exhausted. “Harlem,” he finally said “Is that what triggered-”

“Sort of. They used my blood for that one. I was looking for a cure, and people used it for other things.”

“Shield called him 'The Abomination.' The army—Ross tried to get Fury to take him for the Avengers, you know.”

Now it’s Bruce looking horrified. “He what?”

“Fury tossed Tony at him. Special consultant to the Initiative.” Natasha’s smile is sly, easy. 

“It ended with me buying his favorite bar and turning it into a restaurant.” Tony shrugged “Nice place. Like a Chuck E Cheese, but classy.”

“I do not know of this Chuck E Cheese,” Thor said slowly.

“It’s a franchise restaurant with a bunch of video games, and someone who dresses up in a giant mouse costume.” Bucky shrugged.

“How do you know that?” Clint asked. 

“Mouse costume hides a lot of weapons,” Bucky shot back. “Can we stay on plan for five minutes?”

“Okay,” Natasha returned. “So, on that frankly horrifying note, we need to get Jarvis to move whatever satellites into position so we can get a better look. I’m going to get Maria and Coulson on this, and we’ll get some agents in to do some recon. Thor, if you’ve got any sway with your father, we could use help. As soon as we have intel on an entrance, we’re go. James?”

Bucky nodded. “I’m guessing they don’t want us to demolish this place, so Hulk is probably going to be out, but I want you close, in case we need you. You’re the only one with any intel on what we’re likely to face.”

Bruce nodded. “Understood.” 

“Jarvis, can you get me an aerial progression of the mall as it was being built? I’ll look through it and see if I can figure anything out. I don’t remember it, but there’s a good chance I was there at some point if it’s as big as it sounds, and it might jog something.” He had vague images of so many bases, seen and heard from behind the glass windowed casket that was the portable cryo unit. This had to be one. It had to.

“Certainly.” 

“So we’re going to just sit on our asses until we get intel?” Tony said, voice sharp. “We’re just _leaving_ Cap-” He broke off as Pepper laid a hand on him, and pushed away from the table, stalking away.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in chapters. Time got away from me. Hopefully, I'll get back to a regular schedule now.

To Bucky’s annoyance, they all looked at him, like he was supposed to know how to handle fucking geniuses in a temper tantrum. “What?” 

Sam shrugged, and pushed back from the table. “Going to bed. Wake me if we have news.” 

Bruce followed him without a word, leaving Thor, Natasha and Clint staring at him. “What?” he snapped again. 

“I’d like to come,” Pepper said abruptly. “When we go to get Steve.”

Natasha opened her mouth before Bucky could, thank god. “Pepper, you’re a civilian.”

“No. I’m really not. I’ve been training.”

“There’s a difference between a few months and-”

“I can do it.” 

“I’m sure you’ve been working hard, but it takes years to get where we are.”

Pepper’s eyes narrowed. “Could you hand me that paper?” she asked Bucky, pointing out a blank sheet. 

He obligingly offered her the sheet, only to have it erupt in flames the moment it neared her hand. 

“That’s new,” Natasha observed. 

Pepper shrugged, and Bucky noted with alarm that the veins in her arms were glowing red. A memory sparked. “Extremis?”

“And now?”

“I'm physically stronger—Not Hulk strong, but I can almost match Tony in the suit. I can burn through steel. I've been sparring with Steve for the last six months.”

“Remind me to apologize to him. I didn't think he could keep a secret to save his life,” Natasha murmured.

“Once it was stabilized, I needed to learn my new limits, and Tony,” Pepper stopped. “Tony couldn't do it. Too afraid of hurting me. Steve trusted me. Helped me. It was good to have someone who understood what it was like to have your body irreversibly altered.”

Bucky nodded. “I'm going to need to see what you can do,” he said gently. “It doesn't need to be against me. Thor's good, or Clint, or Natasha. But before I can say yes, I need to know.”

“You're fine,” Pepper said firmly, eyes ticking sideways to Natasha for a moment to see if she'd object.

“Get some rest for now, I'm going to go talk to Tony,” Bucky said.

“You might be better letting Bruce talk him down,” Pepper advised.

“He walked past five minutes ago and threw his hands up,” Natasha informed her.

“I've got it,” Bucky said, standing slowly. “You all put me in charge of this shitshow, it's the least I can do.”

He followed the direction Bruce had come from and found himself heading for the stairs to the roof, and headed up. Now that Thor had made his dramatic appearance, the sky was back to the cotton candy blue that he remembered from days long past. To the left was an unobstructed view of Lake Superior, waters still and blue. Chicago wasn't _his_ town. He wasn't sure anywhere was his any more. Too many years gone by.

It struck him again that he'd been the Soldier for three times as long as he'd been Bucky Barnes. Yet here he was, going by a dead man's name again.

Tony was puttering around on the armor, using a hammer to tap out a dent in the shoulder plating. Mostly he seemed to be making a mess of it. “I hope you have a replacement,” Bucky offered.

Tony jumped a little, and Bucky ducked the hammer that flew at his head, catching it with a clang of metal on metal. “Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you.”

“Jesus fuck, grandpa, warn a guy. Going to put a fucking bell on the goddamn spies around here.”

Bucky shrugged and handed the hammer back. “Or, you need to work on your situational awareness.”

“Gee, _thanks_.” Tony looked at the shoulder piece and sighed. “Fuck.”

“No spares?”

“I've got spares. I just. You're just going to leave him there. I gotta say, ice pop, I figured you'd be at the head of the line calling for blood.”

“Tony. I'm not leaving him. _No one_ is leaving Steve. But if we go in without intel, they'll have all of us. Hydra's not stupid. I wish they were.

“Is this some payback? Steve left you, so you're-”

“Tony, you're going to shut the fuck up now, or this is about to get really ugly.”

After a long, tense moment, where Bucky could hear the arm recalibrating, panels whirring with his spike of anger, Tony sighed. “I'm sorry. That was really shitty.”

Bucky shrugged. “It happens. You're a lot less like your dad than I thought you'd be. More like your mother.”

“You knew her?”

“Yeah. She was an expat from Poland, family sent her to her grandparents in London when things started getting bad. Hell of a dame—woman.”

Tony smiled slightly. “She was.”

“She used to go on runs, into Germany. Saved a lot of Jews. I guess you knew that she was a quarter Jewish,” Bucky said, rubbing his hand over his neck in a way that Steve would have recognized right away.

“No, I didn't. She never talked about the war. She mentioned that she met Dad in London, but not much else. She told me that her mother was from Poland, but she failed to mention the Jewish bit.”

“Maria didn't consider herself Jewish, really. Her mother had married a Protestant, and she'd converted. But when the war started, she watched the flood of Jewish immigrants. Her mother was still in Poland. Half a Jew was as bad as full in those days. Her father was shot in the streets for marrying a Jewish woman. Her mother...well.”

“Steve never mentioned any of this.”

“I don't know how much he knew. Maria and I got along. Your father could get...focused. And sometimes, when she got back from a mission, she just wanted to blow off steam. She'd come down to the local pub and drink and dance with the Howlies. Steve never was much of a drinker, unless he wanted to get hammered, and boy had two left feet. Also, Peggy. When he was in strategy sessions with Command, he was chasing around after her. He'd come out with us once a week, or if we were coming off a tough mission. Otherwise, he'd say it wasn't fair for the guys to have their CO breathing over their shoulder.”

“That...is not the Steve I met.”

“I've heard.” Bucky felt the old smirk touch his lips. “I bet the two of you were like oil and water.”

“More like gasoline and fire,” Tony shot back. Then he stopped himself. “No, that's not true. It was, at the beginning. Just—Howard always held him up as perfection. Good, kind, noble, smart. And I was smart, probably smarter than him. Or it could be that the tech just caught up in time for me. “

Bucky nodded. “Howard was a lot of things. But I wouldn't have put bets on him being a father. He was too analytical. I never got the feeling he liked Steve as much as he was proprietary about the Serum's outcome. Me, he really didn't have time for.”

“Me either,.” Tony swallowed.

“No, he wouldn't have. You're too much like your mother. He cared about her, but he didn't understand her a bit. Maria knew how to do what had to be done, whether it was something she wanted to do or not. I'm really sorry to hear that she got buried under Howard's legacy, too.”

“After this is done, we're going to sit down and drink, and you can tell me about her.”

Bucky nodded, and tapped a metal finger against the arm of the Iron man armor. “She'd have been proud as hell of this,” he offered. “Your father would have been too damned horrified that you'd shut down weapons, but when he really looked, he'd have been jealous.”

“I really am sorry, for what I said earlier. Steve's done a lot. After the shit with the Mandarin, he helped Pepper a lot. She wouldn't risk using her powers against me, but Steve heals faster, so it wasn't so bad. And she needed someone who could tell her that it would get better. That her body wouldn't always betray her.”

“Stevie would be a good one for that.” Bucky was quiet for a moment, something he didn't have a word for tightening his throat. “You would think, after everything, I'd know better than to do this shit.”

Tony looked at him a little nervously. “You okay?”

“I sent him into that base. I picked it. And now-I shouldn't have. I should have known. And now Hydra has him. And he doesn't even know that I'll come for him.” His eyes were uncomfortable, prickling with heat. He reached up to rub them, and his flesh hand felt wet.

“Hey. Hey.” Tony was patting his shoulder ineffectually. “He's going to be okay. We're going to get him.”

Bucky nodded, jaw still tight. “I just wish I’d listened to Natasha, but I forgot, somehow. How could I forget?”

“Hydra?”

“Not like that. I got Captain America stuck in my head, and I forgot that Steve is just as vulnerable as anyone else. He doesn’t even know if I’m alive, much less that I’ll come for him.” He looked up to find an odd look on Tony’s face. “What?” 

“Yeah. I don’t know how much you know about what has been going on the last few years with me?”

“Very little. Ironman was a high value target, but I was never sent for you. Hydra was going to deploy me to get the arc reactor before they found out about Extremis. After that, they weighed the potential of your girlfriend burning the Winter Soldier to a crisp, and decided to wait for Insight to come up. Before that, something about the Ten Rings? I was frozen at the time, and it wasn’t in the debrief.”

“So, I was kidnapped in the Middle East by Ten Rings. Kept for about three months, during which I was presumed dead. And it sucked for my friends, none of whom stopped looking for me. Even though it was damaging Rhodey’s career. And I promised never to do something like that again.”

Bucky rocked back on his heels. “You told him.”

“Yeah. I did. Not everything. Just that we’d had eyes on you, had provided help, and that you were alright, and remembering.” Tony looked out towards the water. “I know, I broke my word, but--Steve’s my friend. He’s been awesome with Pepper, and I just couldn’t let him grieve for you any more. So, yeah. He knows you’re coming.”

Muscles that he didn’t know were tense unlocked with something akin to pain. Steve knew. “Is he-what did he say?”

“Well, the first part, I couldn’t really get, because it was really high pitched and breathy. I think I heard an ‘oh thank god’ in there. There was definitely a keep your hands off my man, Tony.” 

Bucky snorted. “Thanks. Thanks for that. Who wouldn’t want this?” He lifted the metal hand and wiggled the fingers.

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “You’re talking to the wrong guy,” he said, motioning towards the Ironman suit. 

A shaft of bright white light stabbed the roof a few feet from them, and Bucky shoved Tony behind him, pulling the gun from the back of his pants. “Go. I’ll-”


	21. Chapter 21

The light died away, leaving a single black bird sitting on the roof. “-the hell is that?” Bucky finished. 

“It’s a bird? Maybe get Hawkeye up here?” Tony suggested.

After a moment, the bird cawed harshly, and took flight, landing in front of the roof door. It glanced back at them before pointedly tapping at the door. 

“I think it wants us to open the door?” Tony said. It cawed sharply in reply. “Yeah. Got it.” He started towards the door, only to pull up short when Bucky grasped his wrist.

“Wait.” He strode over, eyes narrowed, looking for any sign that it wasn’t just a standard crow. Really fucking big crow. 

No visible seams. No mechanical noises. It tilted its head and cawed softly, fluttering its wings anxiously. “What the fuck,” Bucky muttered, slowly reaching towards the glossy black feathers with a shining silver hand. 

As if in answer, the crow beat wings for a moment, landing lightly on his fingers. 

Images slid through his mind, of a shining golden city, a gleaming throne that cradled an old man. Old in age, but not in spirit. He sat straight, white hair falling in a soft wave to his shoulders. A patch, also golden, covered one eye. Another black bird sat on the throne at his left hand, while the right hand held a spear.

_Odin, King of Asgard,_ a satin-slick voice slid into his mind. _I bring glad tidings._

Without warning, Bucky's flesh hand moved, grabbing the crow by it's neck. “Get the fuck out of my head, bird.”

It squawked a little urgently, and a moment later, Stark was there, holding his flesh wrist. “Barnes. Come on, let the nice bird go. Barnes. Bucky,”he said urgently.

Bucky looked over at Stark. “Did you hear that? Did you see it?”

“What I see, is you trying to choke a crow.”

“S'not a crow.. S'fucking raven. Hugin or Munin,” he added, remembering the mythology books he'd read to Steve while he was sick.

“Oookay,” Tony said slowly.

“I'm not fucking crazy. It talked to me.” He watched Tony's face get even more dubious, saw his free hand—why was the man still touching him? Why did everyone touch him? Did they not know what he'd done? They should be staying a continent away, not giving him a goddamn penthouse suite, like he was a fucking friend. “Just go get Thor.”

After a long searching look, Tony let go of his arm. “Don't kill it. If it really is from Odin, that would probably be bad.”

Within a minute, Thor was there, Natasha in his wake.

“Hugin!” he said joyfully. “You bring news?”

The raven gave it's short cry, and Thor nodded. “He did not mean you any harm, friend Barnes. It is how he speaks. He will not trouble your thoughts again.”

Bucky let the bird go, stepping back a little awkwardly. “Uh. No hard feelings?”

The raven dipped it's head once, and turned back to Thor. “He is sorry to have startled you,” Thor translated.

It cawed more urgently, and Thor's smile brightened. “Oh, that is good news.”

“And for those of us who don't speak bird?” Natasha asked.

“Father is sending a visendakona.”

They all stared at him blankly. Bucky was vaguely glad that no one seemed to understand the word Thor had said. It blurred in the air, almost musical, but definitely not any of the multitude of languages that HYDRA had instilled in him.

Thor sighed. “A magic user of a kind. I would think sorceress would be the closest word. They practice seiðr..

“Like Loki,” Barton said, voice hard.

“Yes, and no. Loki's power when he was here was tied too much to the Spear and its gem. I saw very little of Loki's actual skills. It was like...our good Captain's use of guns. He can be an effective blunt instrument with a firearm, but the real beauty is when the shield is in his hands. That is when he comes alive.”

Bucky considered Thor's wording. Made a certain amount of sense, really. Stevie had always used the shield like an extension of his own arm. He could use it to harm or to protect. Yet another reason that he shouldn't be wielding it.

“Well, that's fucking comforting,” Barton said. “It's nice to know that I got ripped open and turned inside out by “just a little” power.

“I didn't say a little power. The stone in the spear was infinitely powerful, but it was not Loki's power. It was my lady mother's opinion that when he was with the Chitari and Thanos, his power was bound from him, that he was broken on the blade of his own magic.”

“Heimdal will open the gate in the park near the waterfront.” He nodded “I shall return, friends.” He unhooked the warhammer from his belt, and tossed it into the air, running to leap off the side of the building. A moment later, the hammer was back in his hand, and he was _flying._

“That's something you don't see every day,” Bucky observed

“You get used to it,” Natasha said. 

“Really?”

“Nah. It's just weird.”

“I can take the couch,” Bucky offered. “So the Van-whatsis can have a room.”

“You could room with Sam,” Natasha offered.

“I'm pretty sure Sam doesn't need me up his ass. Especially after I tried to kill him. Plus, I'll feel better if I can see the entrances,” he lied.

From the looks Natasha and Barton sent him, they both knew it was bullshit, but they weren't going to call him on it.

A bright beam of light pierced the sky about a mile south of them, and Bucky shrugged. “Looks like that's our sorceress.”

They stood around on the roof for a little while, until Tony's phone chirped. “They're taking a cab.” he said. “Apparently, we got some troops, too?”

“Fuck, I hope it's Sif. She was fucking _badass_.” Natasha shot Barton a Look, Bucky noticed.

“She was,” he defended. “If this sorceress is half as badass, we'll have Cap back in time for lunch tomorrow.”

“Bucky gave him a slight smile. “We can hope.”

Several phones went off with a sharp shrilling tone. “Shit,” Barton muttered. He grabbed the phone and pressed a few buttons “Coulson, this is not a good- What? Fuck, c'mon, we're a little busy here. Wait, what? Yes sir.”

“We have a situation.”

“No,” Tony said. “ _We've_ got a situation right here Tell him to call the Fantastic Four. Or fucking Xavier.'

“We're closer. It's in Louisville.”

“I don't care,” Tony shot back.

“We don't need everyone. You stay here, keep sorting through the intel. Coulson's down by three, because they're in Minnesota. He needs the help. It'll be a quick fight. Just Nat, me and Barnes.”

Bucky shot him a look. “No. Not going anywhere.”

“Look, either you come, or you let me borrow the shield. They want to negotiate with Cap. Since you're a fuckload closer to his body type and height than me, also you have super strength, and know how to use it, you'd be preferable.”

“Why the fuck do you have to give them what they want?”

“They've got some politically important hostages. Linda and Carrie Ellis,” he said gravely.

“I've been fucking brainwashed. Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“The First Lady, and their eleven year old daughter,” Tony said softly. “Fuck.”

“The president has been a big proponent of the Avenger's Initiative in general, and Cap especially. His backing kept Cap out of the hearings after DC. Which is good, because he was not in any shape.”

Bucky looked at the gravel roof. “Yeah. He was busy healing from me shooting him.”

“No, James. No. That wasn't the reason. He wasn't physically incapacitated. But that first week, he was--” Natasha broke off, obviously searching for words.

“Seriously fucked in the head,” Tony said. “Like massively.”


	22. Chapter 22

“Yes, thank you, Tony,” Natasha said dryly. “Not untrue, but as lacking in tact as ever.”

“Well, everything he thought was true turned out to be a lie,” Tony said reasonably. “Hydra? Not gone. You? Not dead. Sam had his hands full trying to keep him still long enough to for him to heal up.”

“He jumped into the self recriminations before we’d even gotten away from STRIKE. If he hadn’t crashed the plane, if he’d gone back to look for your body, etc. Never mind that the US would have been obliterated.”

“I think he started long before then,” Clint murmured. “He blamed himself pretty much right off the bat from what Coulson told me. Tried to drink himself into oblivion, in a bar in Central London, during a blitz.”

“So you’re telling me he’s suicidal?”

“You would have to ask Sam about that one. I didn’t think he was actively trying to die, just that he wasn’t going to take any particular safeguards to prevent it.” Natasha shrugged, then gave Bucky a narrow look. “You know, we could really use you on this.”

He didn’t want to go anywhere. But if he didn’t--could he look Steve in the eye? He wasn’t a hero, but he didn’t think he was a villain either. “Fine. I’m in. Let me grab my gear.”

“Don’t bother with your outfit. Just grab the shield and the skin cover for the arm that Tony made. They’re refitting his costume based on the scans Jarvis made of you,” Clint said, half into his phone. “Sir? Yes. He’s coming. We should be there by 17:30 hours.”

Still shaking his head with the stupidity of people, Bucky headed down to grab his variety of guns. He had a couple that would probably work, plus whatever could fit in the Captain America costume. After some indecision, he grabbed two autos, a mini-uzi, and a metric ton of knives. If nothing else, he could slip those into his boots. 

He slid into the plane as Barton was firing up the engines. “Coulson has a base of operations set up a mile from the site, but he wants us ready to go as soon as we land and get you into the suit,” Natasha said. “They’re going to brief us enroute, if you could come to the cockpit.”

When he followed Natasha it was to see Maria’s face on the monitor. “Good to see you again Sergeant. Actually, Lieutenant. Don’t know if you knew that your paperwork came through about two days after you’d fallen.”

“I--didn’t know that.” 

She shrugged, then got down to business. By the time they touched down outside of Louisville, he had mental map of the water treatment plant the kidnappers were holed up in, the thermal satellite imaging, and the potential trouble spots, and probable holding cell for the hostages. 

The moment he stepped off the plane, Coulson was there, motioning for him to follow. “We put lifts in the boots,” was his first full sentence to Bucky. You’ll have to see if they present a problem.” He led Bucky to a curtained alcove, where a black suitcase awaited. “It’s the stealth uniform, which is the best for protection from bullets and blades. Also, less of a target. If you lend me the shield for a moment, I’ll change it to match.”

Bucky handed him the shield, and stepped behind the curtain, popping open the case. Dark blue armor was carefully packed. He slipped his clothes off, undoing his various holsters and laying them out onto the table. The pants went on first, sliding against his skin. It felt solid, but surprisingly flexible. The fake skin of the arm slid on next, followed by the shirt, a long sleeved number with joint protection built in. Last was the vest, armor buckling into place with ease. 

Whoever had tailored it knew their shit, he’d give them. He slid the boots and gloves on, and started the process of arming himself. The gun holster clipped at his back, the min-uzi slid securely under the top of the harness that held the shield. Various knives slid under the gloves, and into his boots. None of it was ideal--it would take too long to get to a weapon, but it would do. The helmet had been hastily modified with a piece that hooked into the back of the neck of the tunic, to cover his hair. 

A light tap on the side of the alcove brought his head up, hand going to the most accessible blade. “Yeah?” he asked. 

“Just me,” Coulson murmured. He held out the shield, paint stripped to leave a matte silver finished with a dark red star that matched the one on his chest...and on his arm.

“Did you change up this?” he asked, tapping the red star emblazoning his chest. 

Coulson looked down, scratching the back of the neck. “It seemed appropriate. If you don’t like it-”

“No. It’s fine.” It helped, in an odd way. In a very real way, this wasn’t _Steve’s_ uniform. It made the shield just a little lighter to carry. 

A small woman appeared behind Coulson. “Okay, now that? That some weapon’s grade pretty, AC. Why are all of your people pretty? It could give a girl a complex.” Her eyes slid down him, then back up, and Bucky felt a familiar smirk touch his mouth. 

“Like what you see, doll?”

“Doll?” She smiled wider. “Shit, you’re Barnes, aren’t you? AC’s been fanboying pretty hard since you showed up.”

“Thank you, Skye,” Coulson said firmly. 

“What, I’m not allowed to enjoy the view?”

“Not according to SHIELD’s sexual harassment manual-”

“No offense, boss, but every copy of that burned to a crisp. I’m pretty sure _we_ don’t have a manual.”

“I’ll have May write one,” Coulson said. “Now just let--How do you preferred to be addressed?”

“Whatever. Not real concerned with names.”

“Let Agent Barnes get himself together for his mission. We’ll be waiting for you outside.”

Within a few minutes, he had his hair pulled securely under the cowl, snapping it into place. He checked the draw on his weapons one last time, and then nodded to himself and stepped into the hallway. 

Movement across from him caught his eye, and he tensed before realizing that it was a mirror. Captain America looked back. Maybe not Steve, but definitely Cap. Anyone who’d never stood next to Steve would never see the difference. 

His boots thumped dully on the linoleum as he stepped outside. Natasha was waiting, and he enjoyed the slight curve of her eyebrow as he stepped into sight. A moment later, Clint stepped deliberately into view, sliding into place at his flank. “Looking good, Cap.”

“Don’t make that face,” Natasha returned. 

“Yeah, I know. Wind’ll change and it’ll freeze like that,” he muttered.

“Do you really think I care?”

“Gotta love the warm and fuzzy environment SHIELD provides,” Barton teased. He subsided as they approached the barrier that SHIELD had set up outside of the plant. “Okay, Cap. You’re on.”

He hefted the shield off his back, and stepped to the side of the barrier, into view. “Okay,” Coulson called, voice amplified by a megaphone. “We got the Captain for you. Now, release the hostages.” 

A man stepped into the doorway holding a young dark skinned girl in braids. “That’s Carrie Ellis,” Natasha murmured. 

“Understood.” Bucky strode forward, tilting his chin up in his best impression of Steve. “I’m here,” he said firmly. “Let her go.” 

The man crouched behind the child, gun pressed against her temple. 

Bucky stopped about three long strides from the man. Close enough for him to get a good look at the uniform, but far enough that he wouldn't hear the soft whir of the arm's servos. “We need to talk about this,”he said softly, doing his best to mimic Steve's voice. Most people hadn't got to hear it like this, not the Captain voice. “It's going to be okay, Carrie.”

Her chin tipped up, and Bucky had a moment's dejavu. Kid was a spitfire, but if she did what she was planning to, things were likely to go wrong really fast. “Okay, let's talk trade.”

“Barnes,” Coulson said sharply. “This is not what we discussed.”

“First, I'm going to need to see the First Lady, too. We're not doing this unless we have proof that they're both alive.”

“What?” the man asked. “What are you talking about?”

“You want me, I want the hostages free. Release half of them now, and I'll go with you. You can release the others when I get to the base.”

“Don't Cap,” Carrie said shrilly. “He's not going to release us. He just wants to make the Avengers look bad when the building blows with you and us in-” She yelped in pain as the man's fingers dug into her shoulder, giving her a hard shake.

He heard Barton cursing over the com, and held up his empty metal hand. “There's no need for that-”

“Shut the fuck up you little cunt-”

“Yasha?”

Bucky sorted through the languages that he knew Natasha spoke, and the likelihood of any HYDRA operative knowing them. “Untxia gorria.”

Her face went slack for a moment, then she nodded sharply. “Coulson. Code Budapest.”

He sensed the movement of troops behind him, and looked past Carrie Ellis to the doorway. “I'd rather trade for the mother, to be honest.” Bucky drawled. “Less of a pain in the ass than the kid.”

There. Another operative near the door, holding the First Lady. And if he could see it--

The operative standing in front of him never saw the arrow that streaked overhead, burying itself into the throat of the operative holding the First Lady. He was too busy watching Captain Americas' fist heading for his face. He went down with a crack of metal on bone. Before he fell, Bucky was shoving Carrie behind him. “See the lady with the red hair? Go to her.”

Then, he was moving, legs pumping as he ran towards the building. Another arrow sliced the air near him, and another operative fell near the door. Then, he was inside, and his knives were in his hands, singing through the air. Before long, he'd put down the rest of the operatives save one, a Centipede Soldier who leveled his guns at Bucky. He moved quickly, putting himself between the hostages and the Centipede's bullets. He lifted the shield, keeping it solidly in front of his torso, ready to jerk it up to cover his head if needed. “Can you all move?” he asked, glancing over at the huddled group. “If so, I need you to get out of here. “Hawkeye and Black Widow are outside. I'll cover you.”

He heard some movement, and watched the Centipede lift his gun. This was going to suck. A single bullet rang out, and Bucky felt a sharp pressure his right shoulder and the shield dipped. Warmth seeped through the uniform top at the edge of the more heavily armored tunic and the less armored sleeves.

Pain followed a moment later, and James chanced a glance back, only to find one of the hostages, not thankfully, Linda Ellis, with an automatic leveled at his head. He spun to the side, putting his back towards the corner of the room and sheathing his knife, reaching for the mini-uzi.

“Soldier,” the erstwhile hostage barked. “Stand down. Drop the shield, and come home, and you will not be harmed.”

His flesh arm wasn't working so well. The shield drooped, almost giving them both an opening. “Fuck you, lady,” he muttered.

The woman spat a series of letters and numbers---some of the same he'd tried out with Natasha, he realized. They were trying to trigger him. When he failed to sit, stay and roll over, she motioned to the Centipede unit, and it slowly stepped forward, spraying bullets at him as he crouched behind the shield.

A shriek drew his attention from the Centipede to the operative. Who was slumping down, blood streaming down her throat. Linda Ellis dropped his knife onto the floor, eyes wide. “Shit,” she stammered, cringing as the Centipede turned towards her voice. James moved then, emptying the uzi into its circuitry, and putting the shield between the First Lady and the Centipede’s guns. 

He slowly backed up, until he was almost at the First Lady. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Okay, now we need to get you out.” 

Dark brown eyes narrowed. “You’re not Steve.”

Ellis had met Steve. Of course she had. Fuck my life, Bucky thought. “No, I’m not. I’m a friend of his. We need to take this outside, where I’ll have room to work. Start backing up, and stay behind me no matter what.”

She nodded after a moment. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky replied, voice bleak. “I hope so.”

“Barnes,” Natasha’s voice came over his comm suddenly. “We’ve got hostiles. They’re coming around the side of the building. Keep the First Lady there.”

“Solid copy,” he said. “Change of plans. Here. Hold this, and crouch down.”

“What are you-”

“I’ve got this,” he said, darting away from her. The Centipede followed him, turning its guns away from the first lady. 

As he moved, the Centipede opened fire, spraying bullets behind him. He’d faced Centipede units before in training, and even without a bystander to protect, they were tough kills. Over the years, they’d used him to winnow out their weaknesses. Now, he would be faced with a virtually Winter Soldier proofed operative. 

Fortunately, he wasn’t just the Winter Soldier. Or more accurately, he was all the Soldiers. All of his memories, from seventy years of missions.


	23. Chapter 23

Just before he’d be coming back into the area where the First Lady was crouched, Bucky pivoted and rushed the Centipede. As he picked up speed, he dropped into a baseball slide, feeling a bullet ricochet off his metal shoulder. WIth all the armor, there was only so far down that it could follow. Before it could take better aim, he was under its range, grabbing at the ankle joint with his metal hand, and squeezing. 

A ripple of pain slid through his spine as his motion was arrested with a jerk, but he ignored it, bringing his knife up to jam into the back of the knee joint, one of the few weak spots. Even using his flesh hand, the blade slid in with ease, and he head the operative scream in pain as it reeled back, trying to shake him.

Bucky crouched, moving with it. It might look stupid, but it was the best way to bring down the behemoth. A hard punch with the metal hand locked up one of the knee joints, making the operative inside work harder to move. 

Another jab of the knife sliced cleanly through the pack that fed the mix of aerosolized chemicals that made the Centipede so deadly. 

It spun, surprisingly fast, and Bucky was flying before his chest registered impact. He felt the landing, his back banging into a chunk of debris. The Centipede was struggling to turn its guns in his direction, so he pushed the pain aside, and kept moving. 

It was slowing down without the mix of drugs that made the operative feel invulnerable. That didn’t make it less dangerous. If anything, it made it moreso. Desperation was a funny thing.

He ducked back under its reach and started peppering it with blows from the metal hand. He grabbed and yanked any small bit of metal he could catch onto, ripping it from the frame. 

Any joint he could reach, he pounded, until finally, it stopped moving, gears whining and grinding. 

He stepped back, noting that the guns were still operative, and threw one last kick at it’s exposed back. It flew through the air, guns slamming into the wall with a crunch. 

The First Lady watched him from the corner, eyes wide. “D-Definitely not Steve,” she stammered.

Bucky felt color come to his face. He didn’t fight much like Steve, all frontal attacks and power. He fought like HYDRA. There was no shot too dirty, no blow too low, as long as you won.

“Could you take off the mask?” 

Bucky thought about saying no, claiming national security. It wouldn’t work with her, he knew somehow. 

“My husband’s going to tell me about the briefing anyway. I’d like to know who saved my daughter and I. Also, sit down. You were shot.” Her eyes narrowed a moment later. “They called you Soldier.”

Linda Ellis, he realized, was far too smart. Second, she wasn’t kidding about being in on briefings. 

“You’re the Winter Soldier,” she said sharply. 

No use in denying. “Yeah.” 

“But you’re not HYDRA,” Linda stated. 

“Did you get the briefing on some of the experimental tech HYDRA was doing?”

“Some.” Her face went slack, curls bouncing with the movement.. “You were the Asset.” 

“I was called that.” He unhooked the cowl, and tugged it off. “Before that, I was a soldier.” 

“ _Fuck_. You’re Bucky Barnes.”

“Yeah. A long, long time ago.” He jammed the cowl back on. “Widow, are we clear?”

“Busy, Cap.”

“We’re clear in here. Can I help? Also, my cover is totally blown.”

“Excuse me, _Cap_ , what was that?” Coulson interjected.

“The Ellis family had dinner with Steve,” Bucky explained.

“Okay. Look, I’m going to have one of my agents come around behind and bring you a rifle. Any preference?”

“Nah. I can use anything accurately.” He ducked over by the door, and took stock of his weapons. About ten rounds on the uzi, two knives, and the shield. Which he’d frankly rather the First Lady hang on to. Just to be on the safe side. He’d seen that shield protect Steve from a lot of bad shit. Including him. 

Melinda May ducked into the room, and offered him a M40 sniper rifle. “Ma’am,” she said respectfully. 

“Any chance of getting her out of here?”

“Yeah. I can do that. She’ll have to leave the shield. It would make her too much of a target.” 

The First Lady nodded and offered her hand. “I’ll expect you and Steve for dinner when all this is over. “

He took her hand, surprised at the firm grip he could feel even through the thick gloves that protected Steve’s hands from errant shield throws “Yes, ma’am. The secret service might have a few things to say about that, though.”

She waved like her secret service’s worries about a metal-armed assassin who broke DC was of no concern to them. “I mean it.”

He nods, and picks up the rifle. “May, give me two minutes to get high, and I’ll help Barton cover you. 

She nodded quickly, and pulled off a backpack. “Sure thing. We’ve got to get you changed. Like this you stand out, so I brought a uniform and tac vest, and a hair band That way, you’ll just look like another operative.”

As he turned to go, Bucky felt a light touch on his metal wrist. “Be careful,” the First Lady told him. 

“Yes ma’am.”

“And when you get Steve back, have Coulson or Hill send word.”

Without a conscious thought, Bucky found himself straightening, hand going to his head in a salute he hadn’t offered in almost eighty years. “Ma’am, yes ma’am.”

He found a spot where the roof had caved enough for him to pull himself onto the roof. It was the work of a moment to punch a couple of bricks out of the way to make himself a sniper’s nest. He settled into place, and set up the M40. 

Before long, he saw May and the First Lady moving along the edges of the skirmish and took aim at the nearby HYDRA operatives. The 40 had a good feel, a solid kick in the shoulder as he gently squeezed the trigger on the exhale. 

It was like an old friend, stock cradled against his shoulder, picking out each target and watching red bloom against their uniforms. Finally, the First Lady was off the battlefield, and safely in the building where Coulson waited.

He turned back to the fight, picking the flare of red hair out of the chaos, and settled down to clear the Widow's way.

“Nice shot,” Barton said abruptly. “Once this is done, I seriously need to get you on the range for a head to head.”

“You do realize I'm enhanced? Aside from the arm, I mean. You won't have a chance.” He felt his lips turning up in something he vaguely recognized as a smile.

Barton laughed. “Bet me.”

“It's a sucker bet, James,” Natasha said, voice warm. “Clint's the best in the world. I think even better than you,” she added regretfully, then laughed in a very un-Natasha way, as he watched her jam her widow's bite into a Hydra operative's throat. “This is good. Haven't had this kind of fight since the Chitari.”

A wave of people, backed by three more Centipede soldiers came onto the field. “Barton, aim for the knee joint, and the throat. Explosive for the knee, if you have it.”

“What about the throat?”

“What do you have that can punch through jointed steel?”

“Acid?”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, that'll work.” He quickly aimed at the nearest operative, and started shooting.

For all it felt like it, the HYDRA forces weren't endless. And between him and Barton, they held the high ground. It took time, but eventually the overmatched force threw down their weapons. Most were dead before they hit the ground, courtesy of their cyanide pills, but a few simply surrendered.

It took a lot not to pick their asses off, too. Finally, he stood, dissasembling the rifle, and jumped off the roof, landing in an easy crouch. Several young SHIELD agents turned towards him, guns raised, only to blush when they realized that they were holding a weapon on Captain America.

Natasha picked her way across the field, offering him a small smile. “Nice work, James.” Her eyes narrowed. “You didn't mention that you were shot.”

He glanced down, noting the stains on the uniform. “Shit. Think Steve'll be pissed?”

She rolled her eyes rather theatrically, and her hand shot out, grabbing one of the junior agents. “Let Jemma know that her services are required?”

He nodded and ran off to do the Widow's bidding as the woman herself shook her head, sighing. “I don't know where Coulson is finding them,” she muttered.

“Looks like high school,” Clint added. “Or, I might just be getting old.”

Natasha and Bucky snorted in unison.

“Yeah, I realized how stupid that sounded with you too. How old do you think you actually are, Barnes?”

Bucky shrugged. “I'm not sure.”

“Mm. You look maybe a few years older than Steve, so I'd guess twenty nine? Thirty? No more than that.”

“I think Steve'll be grateful to hear that, actually. That you age. He really hasn't been out of the ice long enough to tell,” Natasha offered. “He didn't say anything, but I think he was worried that the serum stopped aging completely. I told him that what the Red Room used didn't stop it completely. I mean, I'm not twelve, thankfully.”

“No, you're not,” Clint leered theatrically, walking over with a young woman.

She looked a little star struck, and Bucky sighed. “Does she know?”

“That you're Bucky Barnes?” the woman said. “Yes. I'm Simmons. Jemma.”

“She's on Coulson's team,” Barton said.

“Clint said that you were in need of my help?”

Natasha gestured towards Bucky's bleeding arm.

“It's fine. I heal quickly.”

“Barnes, do I need to make this an order?” Coulson asked, voice coming sharp through the earpeice. 

“Sir?”

“Let Jemma see your shoulder, James.”

He sighed, but nodded, letting the tiny woman lead him back to the outbuilding.

“Can you take it off, or should I get scissors?”

“No, I got it.” He undid the hidden fastening, and slipped the tunic off, the cowl going with it. The shirt was a little harder, but eventually, he was shirtless. Jemma eyed the metal arm with something he couldn't quite identify. Not like she wanted to strip it down to it’s components--he was familiar with that, thanks to Stark. Wistful, maybe? “That's quite the piece of mechanics. Now, sit down, and let me see your other shoulder.”

He let her voice fade to the background as her looked around the room, focusing on the clock ticking the time slowly away. Breathe in, breathe out. Like he’d always told Stevie to do when the dumb punk got hurt. 

It didn’t really help, but if it kept him from ripping the girl’s throat with his metal hand, it would be good. A lifetime later, she stepped back. “Okay. I just glued it, since your body would reject the stitches anyway.”

She offered him a soft-looking tshirt and a slightly oversized hoodie. “Steve had left that in his locker,” Jemma offered. “And I know he wouldn’t mind you using it. Get changed, and Coulson will be in to see you in a moment.” 

“Fine.” He eased the shirt on, but before he could cover up the metal arm, the door opened. Coulson stepped in, stopping just inside the room. 

“How’s your shoulder?”

“It’s fine. Jesus. Do you flutter over Steve this much?” 

Coulson glanced away. “Personally, no. I’ve only met Steve once. But, yes. He tends to draw out the mother hen in people. I seem to recall that you were not an exception to that rule.”

“Touche.” Bucky tilted his head at Coulson, acknowledging the jab. 

Coulson’s mouth tilted up in a slight smile. “The quinjet will be refueled in about thirty minutes, and you can get back to Chicago.”

He shrugged. “No rush, since I’m just going to be spinning my wheels.”

A tap on the door had his hand going towards his knife before he thought better of it. Coulson would not take it well if he stabbed one of his baby agents. 

Coulson went to the door and held a low-voiced conversation that he probably realized that James could hear every word of. 

Coulson’s voice softened. “Yes ma’am., I’d be happy to.” He nudged the door open, and the First Lady, and First Daughter stepped inside, followed by two dark-suited men. Secret Service, his brain provided.

Bucky felt himself snap to attention without consciously deciding to. Apparently, his mother’s programming to stand when a lady enters the room also reigned supreme over seventy years of conditioning. 

“Sit, please,” Linda Ellis murmured. “How are you?”

He shrugged slightly. “Sore, but it’ll heal.”

She looked curiously at the arm. “The pictures didn’t show how intricate that is.”

He held it out, palm up, and saw one of the suited men tense, hand going to his gun, and Bucky froze. The first lady glanced back. “Sherman, he saved my life. If he wanted me dead, all he had to do was move slower.” She turned back, a slight smile touching her mouth. “Please excuse them. They lost three of their own when we were taken.” She visibly shook herself away from the memory. “I wanted to thank you again.”

“It was my pleasure, ma'am.”

“Please call me Linda. You saved my daughter and I, and took a bullet to do it.”

“Part of the job, m- Linda. Stevie wasn't available, and apparently the punk designated me as substitute.” His tone told her exactly what he thought of Steve's choice.

She smiled. “I have to agree with his decision. Can you give me a sit rep to pass along to my husband?”

Bucky glanced at Coulson for approval. When he nodded, James gave her a bare bones sketch of the situation.

“So you think they'll try to make more super-soldiers?”

“More of me, yes. They'll use Steve's DNA combined with what they learned wiping me to make more. They might even try to turn Steve.”

“That won't work,” Jemma said. “The most they're going to get is short term confusion. Maybe twenty minutes at a time. His serum is stronger than yours, so his brain will repair itself faster. From what I've been able to tell, the serum has continued to evolve his body, and at this point, I'd be surprised it they could do that much.”

“What?”

“The serum basically rewrote his DNA, and made him the pinnacle of human condition. Stronger, faster, healing more quickly. But with time, it continued to rewrite him...and you. When he came out of the ice—something that should have killed him—his response time improved about thirty percent. Since he's been awake, it's continued to improve. His body, and yours, are in a state of constant evolution.”

Bucky blinked slowly. “So, it's not just that the conditioning broke down.”

“No, your body was constantly trying to improve its healing. If you'd seen Steve twenty years ago, you might not have reacted. But your body was constantly trying to throw off what HYDRA had done. The implant they put in just hastened the inevitable. You were going to break free and get your memories back, just a matter of time.”

“So I won't go back?”

“To being the Winter Soldier? No. I seriously doubt anyone could do it again. Your brain is exceptional at rewriting it's own code. You've created more new neural pathways that anyone I've ever seen.”

Bucky breathed out slowly, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders loosen. “Thank you.”

“So, do you have a plan to get Steve back?” Carrie Ellis broke in.

“Yeah. We're working on it. We just have to get a layout on their headquarters.”

“Good,” she said fiercely. “I did a book report on you.”

“Pardon?”

“I did a book report on you last year.”

Bucky's eyes widened, glancing at Coulson. _Book report?_

“You and the other Commandoes are popular subjects for kids to write their papers on. There's a wealth of material, including books by several of the Commandoes themselves.”

Bucky shook his head. “Did you get a good grade on it?”

“I got a B,” she said, shrugging.

“Oh, I'm totally worth an A,” he teased.

She smiled. “I would agree with that. Thank you for saving me. I'll make sure the next one gets an A.”

Coulson glanced at her. “Which book did you use?”

“M. Topaz?”

Coulson's mouth tightened. “Of course you did.”

“I found it in Mom's library. Figured it was a good one.”

Linda shrugged, a hint of pink coming to her cheeks. “Summer reading?”

Bucky looked back and forth until Coulson gave him a tiny headshake. “And now, Sergeant Barnes has to get back to Chicago so he'll be ready when intel comes in.”

The first daughter moved before anyone could react, darting over to Bucky and wrapping her arms around his middle. “Thank you for saving me and my mom.” He shoulders shook, voice breaking on a sob.

“You're welcome, kiddo.” He gently closed his flesh arm around her shoulders, keeping an eye on the Secret Service. “Hey, Captain America is always going to come for you, one way or another, okay?”

She nodded and finally pulled back. “Okay.”

'I've invited Sergeant Barnes to have dinner with us and Steve when things settle down,” Linda said.

“Good.” She gave him one more quick hug. “You were definitely worth an A.”


	24. Chapter 24

When they finally dragged back to the condo, there was a rather large group waiting for them. The Asgardians were obvious. Four warriors besides Thor, and one that he assumed was their sorceress, a rather pale woman with strands of grey threaded in her braids. She was focused on picking apart a small piece of what looked like weaving.

Sharon leaned against the wall, talking animatedly to one of Thor's warriors, a beautiful female that his instincts said might be the most deadly person in the room aside from he and Natasha. Maybe Clint.

A tall dark-skinned man stood next to Maria Hill, talking in a low voice. He glanced up, and his mouth tilted up, and he walked towards Bucky. “Sergeant Barnes.”

Maria stepped up behind him. “Sergeant, I'd like you to meat Antoine Tripplett.”

“I heard a lot about you from my grandfather. It's an honor to meet you in person.”

“And your grandfather was—shit. Jonesy?” Now that he looked, there was a family resemblance around the eyes. “Is he?”

“Six years ago, sir. I'm sorry.”

“Are any of them still around?”

“Yes sir. Morita is still hanging on. He lives with his granddaughter in California. He said when things are settled, he's going to expect your, quote, stupid whitebread ass to visit, unquote.”

Bucky gave a laugh that was at least half a sob. “That sounds like Jim alright.”

Trip nodded. “Commando family reunions were a little crazy.” 

“I’ll bet.” 

“And you know, half of us ended up working for our respective governments,” he added. “Hell, Dum-Dum was one of the first agents of SHIELD. Gotta say, I’m kind of glad he’s not still around, because this would have-” Trip took a breath. “We all decided not to tell Aunt Peggy. Her mind’s not great any more.”

“Barnes!” Thor boomed.

Bucky forced the instinctive flinch down. “Hi, Thor. Glad your friends could make it.” 

“Indeed! Come, I would introduce you to them!” 

Bucky followed Thor over to the grouping of oversized Asgardians. Even the woman was as tall as him. “These are the Warriors Three, Hogun, Volstagg and Fandral, and the Lady Sif, the finest warriors of my land.” 

Volstagg looked at the arm. “That is a most unique item. Tell me, which Asgardian craftsman had a hand in it?”

“I don’t-”

Thor tilted his head. “I think you are right, actually. I should have seen it before.”

Suddenly, the other Warriors were surrounding him, staring avidly at the arm. Bucky fought the urge to step back, to keep his breathing smooth. 

“Are you trying to drive him mad?” a husky, waspish voice asked. “You surround him like he is prey to be felled.” The sorceress stepped closer, brushing back the Warriors Three with nothing more than a sharp glance. 

“I’m sorry, friend Barnes,” Thor murmured. “I meant no harm.”

“It’s okay,” he managed, breathing slowing down to a normal rate. “Thanks--” he paused, looking at the young woman. 

“This is Sigrid,” Thor explained. “She was chosen by my father to come and aid us. He tells me that in later years, she apprenticed with my mother. A mighty sorceress indeed.”

The woman shrugged, a lithe, liquid movement. “I am pleased to help my liege with any task that he chooses. And from the impassioned plea that Thor made of him, this Captain that we go to find must be a very important warrior.” She tossed a raven’s wing colored tendril of hair over her shoulder. 

“Are they right? Is this something from Asgard?” Bucky asked, lifting his arm.

“May I touch it?” she asked, 

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing.

She ran her fingertips along the forearm, following the lines of articulation up to his shoulder. “Yes, and no. The base seems to be what we would consider a prosthetic limb on Asgard, but the underlying structure is an abomination of what lays on top. No healer would tie the sensors directly to the nervous system like that. It...” she trailed off, then spit a series of harsh-voiced curses. “When this is done, you must come to Asgard and let Idunn help you.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

“How would they have gotten Asgardian tech?” Tony asked. “I mean, I’m assuming you don’t leave that shit laying around?”

“No, we do not. However, Midgard has been the site of many battles through the ages. It would have taken just one to be overlooked for this to occur,” Sigrid said softly. “Though some of this seems newer. Maybe ten, twenty years ago. Though it pains me to say so, it reminds me of something that your brother was trying to achieve long before madness took him.”

Thor nodded slightly. “Aye. I wasn’t sure, but-”

“Your brother did that?” Clint asked sharply.

“I believe he had a hand in it.” 

Bucky tilted his head. “What did your brother look like?”

Sigrid glanced at Thor for permission. When he nodded, jaw clenched, she traced her fingers through the air in front of her.

A tall, lean figure coalesced as though from mist and light. Bucky bit his lip sharply. “I know him.”

Pandemonium broke out around him, not subsiding until a loud thundercrack made them all jump. Bucky had his knife in his hand before Thor winced, holding up his hands in apology “Excuse me, friend Barnes. How could you know my brother?”

He thought for a moment, ignoring the questioning noises from the Avengers and Asgardians. “He was a prisoner--not of HYDRA, someone loaned him. I don’t know who. Hydra had this thing. It glowed. But everyone was afraid of it. It sat in this box, and no one went near it.”

“This is very important. What color was it?”

“Yellow. It was this _off_ yellow color. Sickly. And it pulsed with light. I think that they traded it for his services. There was this creature that stayed with him--his jailer, torturer. Whenever your brother was too slow doing as asked, it would drag him away, and he’d come back moving gingerly and looking haunted.”

Thor hissed between his teeth. “Do you remember anything else?”

“He worked on my arm. It worked really well since then until Steve jammed the shield into my joint, actually.”

“When was this?” 

Bucky thought about it. “Maybe just under two years? It’s hard to say. I was frozen right afterwards, and I didn’t get woken until they activated me to go after Fury.”

Thor nodded. “While Thanos had him, I believe.” 

“He came back about a year ago, I guess? I was in cryo, thought it was a dream. He asked me if I wanted freedom.”


	25. Chapter 25

“That sounds a little familiar,” Natasha muttered. “What did he look like, then?

“Kind of like that,” Bucky gestured towards the projection of Loki, green cape and horned helmet—Those clothes at least. He looked...tired. Worse than he did when I saw him before. He had this staff, with a blue stone in it. He told me that I'd been ill used, and he could help me, free me from my enslavement”

Clint winced. “Out of one fire, to another. “

“He asked if I would follow him, and touched the spear to my chest.” James shuddered. “It was agony. Whatever he did was warring with the damage Hydra had done. All I could do was scream. He pulled it back and hissed something I didn't get. But he looked back and told me that I could fight with him, and bring a new world order. Which was nothing different than I'd normally be told. Pierce liked speeches. He liked to believe that if I wasn't controlled, I'd work for him, like I did when Dept X had me. The fall did some serious brain damage, and I didn't remember who I was. They convinced me I was a long-term operative in America, and that I had come home to them. Eventually, with drugs, electroshock and repetition, I “remembered” my childhood in Vladistock and Kiev.”

“So what did you tell Loki?”

“I nodded. Then he showed me a projection of the Avengers, and it didn't go well. I fought, screamed, tried to kill him. Sadly, since I was in cryo, it didn't amount to much. He tried a couple of more times, used the bullshit about Steve abandoning me, that Howard had known about me, all that shit.” He shrugged. “I don't think his heart was really in it. Eventually, he gave up. And left--” He paused, tilting his head. “No, he didn't. He told me that a time was coming when I'd have to make a real choice. Then, he told me that the Captain was coming and I should be ready. I think he put a block on that conversation, until I'd seen Steve. I didn't remember until after the Smithsonian.”

“That sounds a little too kind to be Loki.”

“I do not believe that is something my brother's power would allow.”

“The staff, and the yellow stone are both Soul Gems,” Sigrid offered abruptly. “One of six that offer power over an aspect of the universe. The Tesseract was another.”

“Infinity Stones,” Sif said heavily. “The aether was another.”

Natasha's eyes widened. “Did they ever find Loki's staff in the wreck of the Triskelion?”

“No, we haven't,” Maria murmured.

“Would the shielding near Steve be consistent with one of the Gems?”

“Yes. I believe it would. The gems are dangerous on their own, but few would know how to wield them properly. Humans in general cannot stand prolonged exposure to a Gem. It burns them up. Asgardians can wield them, with price. Some celestial beings,” she added, voice gone low and bitter. “Thanos,” she nearly whispered, shuddering. “I was a child of one of the outlying worlds in Vaneheim’s system, sent to Asgard when Thanos came for my people. He and his 'daughters,” she spat. He adopted the children of the races he obliterated. Always the females. Turned them into cyborg assassins against their will. Death’s Daughters. This would have been my fate without your Lady Mother’s protection.” 

Sigrid looked at them seriously. “If a soul gem is on this planet, he will come to retrieve it. The sooner the captain is retrieved, and the gem is removed the better for your planet.” 

Bucky nodded. “Soon as we have intel, we’re a go.” 

Thor nodded. “You, the Widow and the Hawk should get some rest while you can.” 

Before he could protest, Natasha agreed, and he was being shuffled off to bed like a child, despite his protestations that he could take the couch so that some of the Asgardians could have his room.

“No worries, Freezer Pop. I rented the floor beneath us, too. It was more for a privacy thing, but it works out,” Tony said breezily as he passed. “Get some rest.”

When they reached his door, he glanced at Natasha. “You know if I sleep I'm going to scare the shit out of everyone.”

“That's why Bruce is at the other end of the penthouse. You've got Sam, Clint and me next to you—none of us are going to be spooked by screaming. Hell, I roomed with Steve for a couple missions. Trust me, you haven't lived until you've had supersoldier lungs go off next to you.”

“Even when he was a ninety pound asthmatic, he could get some volume. And the serum didn't change his voice much. Just meant the little shit could yell longer.”

“Coulson said that we should have some news in the next six hours, so hopefully, we'll have Steve back in the day. Now, get some rest, so you'll be in good shape when it's time to get him. I know you can sleep on command.”

“Just another gift of the Red Room.”

“There are some of their gifts I wouldn't give back, Yasha.” She kissed him on the cheek and ducked into her room.

Natasha was much more complex than Natalia had been, but then, Natalia as he’d known her last had been a teenager. Not hard to be more complex than that. The Natalia he remembered had been an uncanny mixture of rage and desire with grasping claw and fang, drenched in blood and death. 

In short, she’d been his perfect counterbalance. Beauty to his beast, a blade between the ribs so honed you didn’t feel it until you were on the ground to his bullet to the head. But not happy. Never in peace.

Natasha seemed to know peace. He wondered how long he'd take to get that far.

He ducked in the shower again, marveling at the unending hot water. Before the war, they'd been lucky to get a couple of minutes of lukewarm water out of the spigot. He couldn't remember a time when the water was so hot. In the war, it had been a drafty tent with mildly warm water, courtesy of the boiler they'd take turns stoking.

Their short stay in London had been a marvel at the time. After his first round in Hydra captivity, he'd spent hours in the tub, immersing himself in boiling water, trying to scrub the filth off, trying to soak heat back into his body. It hadn't worked then, and it wouldn't now. It made sense. Why would the Winter Soldier be warm?

The bed was far too soft, but he forced himself to fall asleep anyway. As Natasha had said, not all of the Red Room's gifts were useless. He could sleep anywhere, at any time, for an exactly proscribed length of time. He told his body to wake in four hours, which was two more than he needed, really. He could perform at peak condition on two hours of sleep for over a month at a time.

Somehow, he didn't think Natasha would accept that response. He wondered if any of the non-enhanced humans were sleeping. Somehow, he didn't think Tony would be. Unless Pepper planned to drug him. That was a possibility. Or was that one of those things that normal people didn't do? He remembered giving Steve meds to help him sleep when he was sick, but that wasn't the same thing. It turned out that most things made him giggly and flirty first. Bucky had learned early to sit in the chair while he read to Steve if he didn't want to get pinched on the ass.

God knows, Steve hadn't ever gone past that when he was sober. Bucky was pretty sure that he was straight as hell. Probably a good thing he hadn't felt up to going out as much as Bucky had. Steve never knew that some nights he slipped closer to the docks, to the bars where the fairies hung out. Steve got his ass kicked enough. He didn't need any more enticements to get in trouble. Bucky'd always been careful to take different routes, and he never gave his real name, or took anyone home.

Steve wouldn't have cared. He'd never given a damn about the guys in their building who'd liked to suck cock. Always stood up for them. Which was kind of the problem, really. If Steve had known about Bucky, he'd have gotten in more fights, and not just the fist kind. The kind of assholes who went after the fairies were serious. Bats, knives and boards-level serious.

He wouldn't risk it. Wouldn't risk Steve.

Maybe he'd tell him now, he thought idly, eyes closing.

The one thing that neither Hydra, nor the Red Room had ever burnt out of his brain was the dreams. Now he just knew that they meant. Snuggling up to a skinny body in the winter, feeling the shivers run through Steve. A wracking cough that threatened to break the fragile bones. Waking up slow, his cock hard and nestled in the curve of Steve's ass. The first time it'd happened, he'd jumped out of the bed like his ass was on fire. Steve had woken, turned to see what the problem was. “Don't worry about it, Buck. It happens to me, too,” he'd muttered sleepily, rolling back into the warm spot Bucky had left.

When Bucky woke, four hours later, he was surprised to find that the morning wood was back. He guessed enough of the drugs had worked their way out. He didn’t feel like doing anything with it, but it was there. It almost felt normal.


	26. Chapter 26

He tugged on the same clothes from yesterday, and went to find some of the food that Natasha had ordered for him. The fridge held a twelve pack of “vanilla flavored meal replacement shakes.” He scooped up two of them, and chugged them without a pause. 

They weren’t his idea of vanilla anything, but it wasn’t like he needed them for the taste. Tasha had kindly included a note that had Steve’s estimated caloric needs. Thankfully, that had been part of the Soldier’s need-to-know. Though, looking at the wide distance between what he’d been programmed and Steve’s presumably tried and tested levels made him think that shockingly, HYDRA had lied to him. 

With a shrug, he reached back in and grabbed another of the bottles. 

“I can’t imagine those taste very good,” a soft female voice murmured. Bucky spun, hand going for the knife in his sleeve. 

Sigrid held up a hand. “I apologize. I should not have startled you.”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s okay. And no,” he added. “They don’t taste great.”

“I am given to understand that the Captain is your shield brother,” she said softly. “It must be a burden to you--not knowing his fate.”

“It’s not doing me any favors. But hopefully, we’ll get the go ahead soon.”

“You have great faith in your team.”

“They’re not bad. They’ll do the job; burn it and salt the earth to get him back.”

She looked to be ready to say more, but Pepper stepped into the kitchen, smiling when she saw Bucky. “Hey, when you’re done, would you want to do that sparring we talked about?”

He drained the third bottle and nodded. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Better to do it now, before I eat.”

“It helps if you’re not puking because of a missed belly shot,” James agreed, flashing back to the many times he’d tried to teach Steve how to punch properly. Since he hadn’t had a clue what he was really doing, it had been a farce.

Thankfully, they’d taken the time in Basic to correct his form, such as it was. He’d always had a good eye for tactics and angles. They’d had food to eat more than one time because Steve was a billards shark. More than once they'd made rent by heading into Manhattan and going to Julian's Pool Hall. They'd always taken the time to stop at the big library, spent part of the day reading in the stacks.

He'd always gone for the fiction section—something escapist that he could read to Stevie when he inevitably got sick from the smoky pool hall. It wasn't something they did often, usually there were better ways to make a few dollars.

Miss Pots led the way to a small gym that had the machines shoved to the walls. “Will this be big enough?”

“Yeah. It's fine. Do you want. Shouldn't Tony or Nat be here?” he asked, having a vague feeling that he shouldn't be alone with out a chaperone.

“Nope. I'm a grown up. How do you want to start?”

Bucky glanced around, eyes lighting on the kind of pads he'd seen others train with. “There. We'll start with those.” He scooped them up and slid them on his hands. “Don't hold back, I need to know what you can do.”

She nodded,and pulled one of the elastics off her wrist, pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail. “Want one?”

He shook his head eying her somewhat nervously. If he broke Stark's girlfriend, he probably wouldn't take it well. “Okay. Starting now.”

He held the pads out for Miss Potts, the way he'd seen Rumlow do for members of the STRIKE team. “Start with punches.”

She took a deep breath, and danced in closer to him, arms held at the ready. “Foot work is definitely Steve's work,” he said. “That's good. Good stance, keep moving. You're smaller and faster than most of HYDRA. They believed in raw power more than tactics.”

The first punch hit his flesh hand, and James nodded. Definitely stronger than average.

“I should warn you, as I start to get into the workout, I may start glowing orange here and there. Don't worry about it,” Miss Potts said. “I've spent a lot of time learning not to use it by accident.”

“Bet that was fun,” he murmured, feeling solid blows rain on his hands. “Okay, mix it up and throw some kicks in there.

She nodded, and lifted her fists higher, shifting her weight like she was going for a right cross, but snapping her leg out at the last minute, slapping into the pad hard enough that he took a half a step back. “Good,” he praised. “Again.”

This time it was a spin kick that would have taken an unenhanced man's head off. “Again.”

Kick, punch, punch, kick. He watched her move, watched the sweat start to stand out on her skin. “Okay, hold.”

She stopped, stepping back. “What?”

“Your form is good. Ready to start sparring?”

“I guess?”

“Good. I want you to use your power this time. I mean, don't try to crisp me, but I'll heal from anything below a third degree in under eight hours.”

“How about we stick with no,” Pepper said. “I’ll go warm, and you can just stipulate that I set you on fire. I had to go vegetarian because I couldn’t take the smell of cooked meat.”

“It is distinctive.” 

“Steve was always really kind about it, but I felt horrible. Even with the advanced fire-suppressant tech Tony outfitted the practice room with, he got some nasty burns, and he would keep trying to comfort me.”

“That’s my punk,” Bucky said fondly, before closing his mouth with a snap. 

“He talked about you a lot,” Pepper murmured. “Once he got over me being a “dame.”” she said dryly, making finger quotes around the word. 

“He never could talk to a lady. Okay. We’ll do it your way,” he said. “But if you slip, don’t worry about it.”

He didn't expect a whole lot from Pepper. She has some good strength and decent aim with her kicks, but that didn't mean much when you put it all together against an opponent. He arched, feeling the almost indecent series of pops loosen his back muscles as much as they could, and focused on the arm a moment, plates whirring with his concentration, not unlike flexing a muscle. He let his face go blank, a shard of ice slithering through him. If she could face him like this, he'd be satisfied.

Many STRIKE agents hadn't.

Of course, he wouldn't have stopped himself from hurting them.

“Begin,” he bit off, eyes lifting to meet hers.

For a moment, it looks like she would to take a step back, but then her jaw tightened, and she dropped into a defensive stance that almost knocked him right out of Soldier mode.

He remembered, too well, teaching it to Steve—five foot nothing Steve a few lifetimes ago in Brooklyn.

He totally deserved the punch in the throat she gave him for his inattention. Didn't mean he let her follow up by sweeping his legs. He grabbed her shoulder with his flesh hand, and threw her off balance, letting her topple back into the mat.

“Again.”

This time, her hands glowed, flames crackling along her forearms, racing up to her throat, and lit her eyes with an unholy fire, and the Soldier approved. The display of power would make even the most determined attacker pause. This time, she came at him with a kick, trusting that he'll be watching her hands. She landed a light blow on his knee, and he moved quickly, grabbing her ankle, trying to flip her.

He wasn't expecting the kick in the face from her other foot, much less the follow up elbow that landed, almost hot enough to burn, against his jaw. “Steve teach you _that?_ ” he asks.

“Natasha. Before,” she lifted a glowing hand. “She was my faux PA for a while. We stayed friends after.”

“Little spider,” he said softly. “Again.” This time, he went on the offensive, coming at her. He used the flesh hand to grab, waiting until she tried to dodge before grabbing her ponytail, jerking her back against his body. Cold, unyielding metal wrapped around her throat.

The flare of heat didn't take him by surprise, but only just. He launched back, metal hand slapping at his shirt to put out the smoking fabric. “Okay, that's impressive,” he muttered, slowly sitting up.

Bucky laughed, voice harsher than he mean it to be. “Don't thank me. This is going to be ugly, in a way that never washes off.”

“I know,” Pepper admitted softly. “But Steve's been there for me, and Tony. Even when he and Tony couldn't be in a room together without going at it.”

Bucky has to fight back a smile at that, because that's Steve in a nutshell. Never letting something get in the way of doing the right thing. Even if he ended up hurt because of it. Sometimes, Bucky thought uncharitably, _especially_ if he ended up hurt.

Pepper kissed his cheek, and went to shower and he looked over at Natasha. “Any updates?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to officially switch to bi-weekly posting. The writing muse has been slow, and I know I'm better off not letting myself get too worrying about having nothing to post. This way, I've got about a 5k cushion of words. 
> 
> Depression has kinda been kicking my ass, so I haven't been answering comments like I should, but believe me when I say this is all because of you all. You've kept me writing when I was low. I can't explain how much it means to me. 
> 
> Also, thank you to any writers/vidders in this fandom. You're awesome, and any similarity of my OCs to your pennames is entirely on purpose.


	27. Chapter 27

Pepper kissed his cheek, and went to shower and he looked over at Natasha. “Any updates?”

“Delta team should be checking in right around now, so we should have something from Coulson shortly.” She eyed him for a long moment. “If it wasn't for a potential mission in lest than 12 hours, I'd ask for a sparring match.”

“Once we get Steve back and safe, I'm all yours,” he shot back, grinning.

“Don't think you'll have it easy. I've learned a lot since you taught me.”

Bucky's smile twisted into something cocky. “Don't think I taught you everything, Зайчик.”

“Again with bunny?”

“You always reminded me of one. The way you'd wiggle your nose before you'd step onto the mat to spar.” He imitated the best he could, and Natasha laughed.

“I never looked like that.”

“You did. It was darling.”

Natasha eyed him narrowly for a moment, and Bucky considered running. Then her lips curled into a smile. “I'm going to kick your ass, Barnes,” she promised.

A light chime sounded through the apartment. “That'll be Coulson.” Natasha strode towards the so called 'war room,' Bucky on her heels. They met up with Clint and Tony in the hallway.

“J?” Tony asked. “What's up?”

“Agent Coulson is on the line, sir. He's asked to have the team assemble for the report.”

Which probably meant that he had something. Bucky's strides lengthended until he was rushing into the room, eyes locked on the video screen.

“Good morning, Seargant. How's the shoulder?”

“Healed. First Lady and Daughter home?”

“Safely in the White House. Air Force One is touching down at Reagan in twenty, and then we'll lock it down until after the mission.”

He nodded. “Good. Any other high-value targets we need to worry about?”

“None aside from the Captain.”

“Any news on the installation?”

“Let's wait for everyone to show up. Trust me, you don't want to get on Hawkeye's bad side.”

“Unless you want a suction cup arrow on your face,” Natasha added.

“They sting,” Coulson explained. “And then you have hickey on your forehead for a week.”

“Aww, baby. Don't be like that,” Hawkeye murmured. “You're just mad that you didn't have any hair to cover it up.”

“Is Agent _blushing_ Tony asked, voice edging into gleeful. “Oh my god, you're my new favorite, Legolas.”

Bucky blinked. “Like the Hobbit? Thranduil's son?”

“Yeah. Wait, you know that one?”

“Yeah. I bought Steve that book when he was sick with scarlet fever. He couldn't focus, so I read it to him about fifty times,” he smiled slightly.

“He wrote more, you know,” Pepper offered. “Lord of the Rings, which was three volumes, and the Simarillion, which was a history of the elves.”

“Steve must have been in heaven,” Bucky smiled.

The silence was an answer. “Seriously? He didn't read it?”

“Said it would be too painful.”

“When we get him back, I am going to kick his ass. Bruce, you can formulate something like you did for me to keep him from being so fucking depressed, right?”

“Yeah. That's who it was formulated for. He insisted that it wasn't a problem—he was just adjusting to being in the 21st century.”

“Stubborn ass.” He nodded at Thor and his friends as they crowded into the briefing room. “Okay, Coulson, we're all here.”

He nodded and tapped a couple of buttons on his keyboard. “This is the best guess we got on a layout.” A three dimensional view of the Mall slid up. “These are the access tunnels for the janitorial staff.”

A few tunnels around the periphery lit up. “With some short-depth sonar, we got a basic outline of the underground. Bad news, it's one level and a total labrynth.”  
Now a partially constructed structure beneath the mall lit up. “That's the best we could do in the short time we had. “We're going to try to get a little bit more today, sending in families with strollers that have sonar on them. Best case,we get another third of the layout, and nothing from where they most likely have Steve.”

“Yeah. Tell them not to try that area. I hate going in blind, but I also don't want to hurt him. The serum enhanced our hearing. I can hear sonar, and it hurts like a motherfucker. If it's strong enough, it can blow an eardrum. They used to use it as punishment for the Soldier.”

Tony's eyes widened. “Jesus.”

Bucky snorted. “Stark, that was the least of the shit they did. At least it didn't cause much physical damage.”

“Once we have Cap back, you two are both having _so_ much therapy.”

Bucky shrugged. “Sure, what the fuck ever. You might want to see if Coulson has plans for me first.”

“Like what?” Coulson asked, voice level.

“Putting me on trial for war crimes? Throwing me in the deepest prison you've got?”

“Wouldn't I have already done that?”

Bucky lifted a shoulder. “Right now, you need me. Once you have the real Cap back... You'd be stupid not to. You have my file. The moment it gets out that you have me, there's about three dozen countries that will be clamoring for my extradition.”

“And you think that we're just going to hand you over?”

“I'd rather you didn't. I've done plenty of damage here, too. Treason alone.”

Tony was making a noise like a tea kettle boiling. He didn't seem to be able to form words, just kept making wordless angry sounds.”

“That won't be the case, Sergeant,” Pepper said firmly. “This came for you during the night.” She held out a piece of cream colored paper. On it, he could see multiple raised seals.

He took it slowly, looking at the top seal, which was changed, yet familiar. His draft orders had the same one. “This is--”

“A full and complete pardon. Signed by the President of the United States,” Coulson confirmed. “The UN is working on a binding resolution for all the countries therein. You're a free man. We, being the new SHIELD-”

“And the Avenger's Initiative,” Tony added.

“Would like to offer you a position,” Coulson finished. “You were a POW, Barnes. You were forced to act against your will.”

“I could have tried harder.”

“No, you really couldn't have,” Bruce said sharply. “The drugs in your system alone would have been enough, but when you add in the targeted electroshock, you should have been a drooling husk. It's fucking amazing that you broke it when you did. The records showed that you'd been wiped less than ten hours before. There is no reason you should have been able to remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by repeated watchings of [Problem](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1591907), by talitha78
> 
> If you have not watched it, go now. Seriously. I watch it before I write any fight scene with Bucky.


	28. Chapter 28

After a long moment, where he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, Bucky nodded, then looked back up at Coulson. “What time does the mall close?”

“We're lucky on that. It's Sunday, so it closes at 7pm. We'll give it til 8 to get civilians out, then we'll go in.”

“Entrances?”

“We've found two so far. One is exterior, on the bottom floor of the parking structure near Macy's. The other is interior, in the theme park. We're going to try to find a third today.”

Bucky nodded. “Okay. The theme park is near the shielded area, but I don't want to put everything in one basket. For now, we'll be looking at two teams. If they find a third, we'll split to hit that, too.”

“I'm sending over the info to Jarvis. Reconvene at five?”

“Yeah. Sooner if you get intel.”

“Understood.”

Coulson vanished, replaced by the schematics for the mall.

“I'm going to make breakfast,” Bruce announced. “Clint?”

“Yeah, I'll help. Pancakes or Cinnamon rolls?”

“Why not both?” Pepper said. “I'll help.”

“I'm not familiar with Midgardian cooking, but I'm quite good at cooking on Vaneheim and Asgard,” Sigrid offered. “I would be honored to learn your ways.”

Bucky sat with the tablet, and began sorting through the intel. “I'll work on this. Tony, Nat? Can you stick here?”

“Trust me, you do not want me in the kitchen,” Tony muttered, sliding into the chair next to Bucky.

“May I stay as well, friend? I have some knowledge of the device that they may be using to shield from prying eyes.”

“Plus, tactics, I'm guessing.”

“Aye. I would suggest the Lady Sif, Fandral and Hogun stay as well. In my absence, Sif commands my warriors.”

“The more eyes the better,” he said, glancing at Tony. “Do we have a printer? I can use Jarvis, but it'd be easier with paper to make notes on.”

“You are all so technology impaired. J, give 'em “paper” would you?” He made finger quotes around the word paper, so none of them were surprised when the table in front of them lit up, turning into a white lined paper. “The “pens” are in the cup in the middle.”

Natasha seemed to be trying to hide a smile. “That's the program Tony wrote for Steve,” she explained. “Mind you, his was mostly doodles.”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah. Stupid punk got into a lot of scrapes at school for that. Teachers used to get pissed. And back then, the nuns could crack you with a ruler, no questions.”

“He mentioned that. And that usually you'd do something stupid, so he didn't have to suffer alone.”

“They would have made him clap erasers. And then, his lungs would have exploded.” 

“So what, you clapped the erasers, and he...” Tony trailed off. 

“Mostly, I convinced him to just sit, but sometimes, he’d be a bullheaded moron, and insist on helping out.” 

Bucky frowned and settled into the chair, grabbing the tablet and starting to flip through intel, figuring out who to give it to. “'No, Buck, my lungs are fine, I feel good. I can do it.'”

“That sounds familiar,” Sam muttered.

“Steve does not like to lean on anyone,” Bucky said. “On the other hand, even if he's half dead, he'll expect you to lean on him. And that kind of shit just never changed. He was like that at seven, seventeen and right before I fell off the goddamn train.”

“Yeah, gotta say, he's like that at ninety six, too,” Sam said. “In the hospital, he was still eating Jello, and trying to call Tony to fix my wings.”

“Which I totally did.”

“Yes, Tony, you're awesome, too,” Sam said, settling down with a tablet.

“At some point, you're going to need to know what type of power our sorceress has, I suppose,” Natasha pointed out. “What she can do.”

“I have some information on that,” Thor said. “I asked my father about what she could do. He stated that her connection to power is strong, and her spells flawless. She has been working downstairs on multiple offensive and defensive spells, things that can be done ahead of time, and then activated with a word. In combat, I know she has abilities, some illusion based-”

“Like Loki,” Natasha said flatly.

“Yes. It is one of the simplest things, and thus one that is taught early on. As I've said, Loki never revealed his full powers. She also can shape elemental energy to a degree. Pull water from the air and turn it to ice, blow dust into a sandstorm. The simplest thing is to channel energy into blasts, however, not unlike a plasma gun.”

“Got it. Thank you,” Bucky added as an afterthought. “What about you? Can you call lightning underground?”

“If the area is fully saturated with a charge, possibly. But that might cause damage in the area, as to get it, I would need a major storm front.”

“Okay, skip that.” He finished sorting through all of the data, and went back to open the first packet. “Get to work.”

The intel from Coulson was spotty, but better than Bucky had expected, considering the time constraints. Whoever he’d sent knew their shit. As he read, he sketched out the basics of an attack. 

It quickly became obvious that some things were much easier for the Winter Soldier than for Bucky Barnes. Less rocket launchers to be certain. As much as he thought the bunker could use a few grenades, he wouldn’t risk Steve for it.

For a moment, his mind tried to run away with him, coming up with a multitude of things that HYDRA could be doing to Steve. Before he could get sucked into it, Bucky forced his mind back to the intel in his hand. He'd passed on some of the folders to the others to look through, but he still planned to go through all the data himself, too.

It wasn't that he didn't trust the Avengers or Coulson's people. It was just that the only people he'd ever trusted with Steve's safety were long dead.

Then again, he'd probably done more damage than anyone else Steve had ever fought. So maybe he should back off that bright idea.

“Looks like Agent Morse thinks she'll be able to infiltrate actual site.” Tony said, flipping through the documents at a speed that made Bucky wonder how much he actually was comprehending.

“She's managed to set up a cover as HYDRA security,” Natasha said. “Testing operative loyalty.”

“Are we sure she's loyal to Coulson?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah. She was freelance when DC went down. Coulson pulled her in after,” Clint said. “She really hates the hell out of HYDRA.”

Bucky glanced up, meeting Clint's eyes, and the other man shrugged, rubbing his neck. “You know her well?”

“She's my ex-wife.”

Tony's head snapped around, but Natasha just nodded, obviously not surprised by this information. “She's clean. A couple of years ago, she was doing a protection gig, and HYDRA—not the Winter Soldier, probably just a STRIKE team—went after one of the kid's classmates. Her client's child was collateral. That kind of thing can ruin a rep.”

“It could have been me,” Bucky said, swallowing. “It's not like they didn't send me after kids, too.”

“It wasn't,” Natasha said. “I know this, because the team they sent didn't walk away. Morse took them out.”

Bucky nodded, trying to force the memories away. Steve. He needed to do this. He needed to get Steve back. “We won't plan on her, but it would be nice to have someone inside.”

They read silently for a while, until Natasha broke the silence. “Most of this is guesstimates. What teams are you thinking?”

“Right now, assuming we have the two entrances?” Bucky waited for her silent nod. “I’m thinking the outdoor team will be Thor and his buddies, Iron Man, and you. I’m taking Hawkeye, Falcon, the sorceress, Trip, Pepper and if she can make it, Hill. We’ll divide anyone else up between us.”

Natasha nodded thoughtfully. “Why split Thor from the sorceress?” 

“She’s more likely to be needed near the shielded area, but Thor’s definitely better starting outside. If Hill can’t make it, I might pull Sif.”

“Shouldn’t you have one of the heavy hitters?”

Bucky smiled dryly. “I do. I’ve got the Widow and Extremis.” 

Natasha tugged lightly on his hair. “I don’t remember you being such a flatterer.”

“I was a little brainwashed. And I think you would have gutted me back then. Such a serious little assassin.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” she shot back. 

His smile slid away like it was never there. “How good is Morse?”

“She’s good,” Natasha confirmed. “If she thinks she can get in, she can. She wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t a foregone conclusion in her mind. Not for something like this.”

“Okay.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I need you to promise something. If things go bad-” He stopped before he could voice his worry.

“I know, Yasha. I _know._ I’ll get them out, or I’ll take care of it. You too.”

“Thank you.” Something in his chest relaxed.


	29. Chapter 29

The morning passed in a whirlwind of planning, inventorying their arms, and making sure that everyone knew their part in the op. 

By noon, Bucky was exhausted. It was obvious why they hadn’t let the Soldier plan too many operations. Planning was easy. People--Jesus H. People were hard. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind that he’d been good at people once. He’d had the kind of charm that put people at ease, raised their confidence. 

Wherever HYDRA had put that part of him, it seemed like it was gone for good. He wasn’t sure how the hell Steve had managed it. Screw herding cats, this was like herding fucking goldfish. 

If Tony didn’t forget the plan halfway through and start taking fucking selfies (and when had that become a thing. Was it a thing, or was it just Tony?) he’d call it a win. 

He was putting Steve’s life in their hands. In _his_ hands. 

He noticed when Sam slipped into the seat next to him at the table. He couldn’t not notice that. It took minutes for him to realize that the man was trying to get his attention, though. 

“Barnes,” Sam said gently. 

“Sorry. What did you need?” He rubbed at the seam of his arm, trying to ease the ache that never seemed to leave. 

“I was just saying that you should take a break.”

“I can’t-”

“You’ve read those reports three times. I don’t think you’re going to find something new.”

Bucky clenched his teeth. “You don’t know that.”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t. But Jarvis does. You need to take a break. Eat something. Go outside for a while, nap, whatever. Otherwise, you’re going to lose your mind.”

He considered the papers for a moment, and sighed. “Jarvis? Keep me up to date on any new intel?”

“Of course, Sergeant.”

“I’ll be back before we go wheels up to make last plans.” Sam stared at him when he pushed the chair back. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just not used to anyone listening to my advice.” 

“Steve?”

“Yeah. Not great at self care, in case you hadn’t heard.”

“Never was, really.” Bucky paused. “Do you want to go grab a sandwich?”

“There’s a great place about three blocks from here. Downtown Dogs. They do a Chicago dog better than anyone else in the city.”

“I’m not sure how well that’ll go over with my stomach, but sure, what the hell,” Bucky grabbed a sweatshirt to cover his arm, and let Natasha know where he was headed. 

Of the Winter Soldier’s kills, none had been in Chicago. Not surprising. His missions in the UShad been sporadic until the seventies. Of his confirmed kills, only about twenty had been in North America. Less in the US. 

It was nice. Soothing. He knew nothing of the area, and was secure in knowing that no blood soaked memory was around the corner like it had been in DC. Or Dallas. Or Memphis.

It was an easy walk before they reached their destination, a shop with a garishly colored awning. A handful of people sat around the outdoor tables, some with friends, some with four legged companions. A glossy red coated dog pulled at his leash, wagging it’s tail hopefully. 

“They don’t want to be your friend, doofus,” It’s owner looked up, pulling reflexively at the leash. “Sorry. He likes people.” She smiled down at the dog, then glanced up at them. 

“No, that’s okay,” Sam said, bending to give the dog a pat.

Bucky found himself next to him, offering a hand to sniff. The dog sniffed his flesh hand thoroughly before it shoved it’s head under it, begging for attention. He found himself smiling, rubbing silky ears. “Hi, doll,” he murmured. His hand at least, seemed to know what to do with the dog, rubbing gently behind it’s ears. “Aren’t you a good baby.”

The fluffy tail thumped a quick tattoo against the table leg and it gave him a wide-eyed doggie grin. 

“Careful, you’ll never get rid of him.”

“He’s gorgeous. And who is this?” he asked, pointing to a small furry lump under her chair. 

“That’s Kili. She’s the sensible one. This is Pratchett.”

Sam’s smile widened. “Two good choices.”

“I recognize Kili, but not Pratchett,” Bucky said. 

“After Terry Pratchett,” she said. 

“He’s a fantasy writer,” Sam added. “I think you’d like it.”

“I’ll have to give it a try.” 

“Here, hang on.” She bent, digging into her bag and pulling out a battered paperback. “A friend of mine got me a signed one. I was going to leave it on the freebie table at work.”

She offered it to Bucky. He stared at it for a moment, then gingerly took it. “Thank you,” he said slowly.

She grinned, and shrugged. “It’s my duty to introduce people to Pterry. Gotta get back to work, but it was nice to meet you.”

Bucky watched her go, trying to name the feeling welling up in his throat. 

“You okay?”

“She--I don’t.” He paused. “She was...nice?”

“Yeah, she was. Not bad looking either.” Sam glanced in the direction she’d gone. “Hey, at the very least you’ve got something to read on the flight?” 

Bucky nodded slowly. “I guess? Why would she give me the book? Do you think she was a Hydra plant?”

“Why would you say that?” 

“I might still have sleeper programming. There could be a phrase or something written in it that could trigger me. Natasha didn’t think Hydra would have bothered implanting something, but she could be wrong.”

“Is it easier to believe that than to think someone wanted to be nice?” Sam asked. 

Bucky was beginning to hate that patient tone of voice. “In my experience? Yes.”

After a moment, Sam shrugged. “Fair enough. You can toss it if you’re worried. Throw it out,” he amended, when Bucky stared at him. 

“It might be a perfectly good book, though. It would be wasteful.”

“Why don’t you hold on to it, then? Even if you decide not to read it, someone else might.”

Steve might, Bucky thought. He’d always liked reading. “Okay.” 

Sam led the way into the restaurant. “What kind of hot dog do you want?”

The menu covered half the wall above the counter. How the hell were that many types of hotdogs? 

“They have other things, too. Hamburgers, Italian sausage, tacos,” Sam continued.

Bucky looked at him helplessly. “I--Just order me whatever you’re eating? Please.”

There was that patient look again, he thought. Sam was full of them. Patient looks and soothing voices. It reminded him a little too much of the way Steve used to talk to the feral cats that hung around their apartment, coaxing them out and crouching low to keep from spooking them.

“Sure thing. Why don’t you grab a table outside? I’ll be right out. It’s a little crowded in here.”

The table the girl had sat at was still open, so he sat there, back to the brick of the store. It wasn’t optimal, but it was better than being back to the window.

The longer he spent time with normal people--as if you could call the Avengers normal, but they weren’t assassins like the Widow and Hawkeye--the less he felt like Bucky Barnes. With every pedestrian he sized up, every time he cataloged the improvised weaponry available, he felt the icy breath of the Soldier creeping close. And the worst thing was that if Steve wasn’t in danger, he might let it in. It would be imprecise--imperfect. But goddamn, it would be nice to shut his brain off.

No gnawing worry. No roiling guilt and disgust. No wounded animal flinching every time someone moved suddenly. Just nothing. Even if it was only for a little while. 

A tray landed on the table, and he jerked back, knife in his metal hand, and flesh one reaching for a gun he wasn’t carrying. He looked up, teeth bared at the threat, who was holding up his hands, taking half a step back. 

“Shit. Barnes. It’s okay. It’s safe.”

He held still, eyes narrowing, glancing around and picking out other potential targets. 

“ _Bucky_. Stand down.” The target licked his lips nervously.

He reached for the other gun, hand closing around the grip. 

“Stand down.” He hesitated. “солдат. уступать.”

The pronunciation was atrocious. Americans. He felt his lip curl, but he let go of the pistol’s grip. “миссия?”

“Bucky.”

Not a proper command. What the hell was a Bucky-- “дерьмо.” 

“Barnes?” 

_Shit._ He slid the knife into the sheath and let himself fall back onto the seat. Sam made a slight questioning noise, and he pressed back, shaking his head, letting his hair obscure his face. When he was sure the words would come out in English, he muttered. “Sorry.”

“Dude, my fault. I know better than to startle a vet.”

Bucky felt his mouth twist into an approximation of a smile. “Is that what I am?” His stomach was churning, bile burning at the back of his throat. 

“Do you think you’re not?” There was that patient voice again.

Bucky finally lifted his chin, eyes narrowing. He wasn’t going to tell Sam what he thought he was. A memory slid to his mind, a dim theater, with Steve practically vibrating beside him. It was one of the first movies they’d gone to by themselves--no adult along. Maybe it was that, or maybe it was that Boris Karloff was born to play Frankenstein’s monster. 

That was him. Stitched together out of all the variations of Bucky Barnes, Alexi, Yasha, the Asset, and the Soldier, with ugly black stitches just barely holding him together. 

After a long moment, Sam shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He nudged the tray closer to Bucky.

The last thing he felt like doing was eating. But, Sam had been kind, even though he’d tried to kill him multiple times. He took a sandwich at random and took a bite. 

Sharp and tart flavor hit his tongue, dragging his thoughts away from what a disaster he was. It wasn’t really familiar, but it was good. 

When he immediately took another bite, Sam grinned, sliding into the chair across from him and picking up a hotdog. “I wasn’t expecting you to go right for the swiss and olive burger, but good choice.” 

The meal was fairly quiet after that, Sam seemingly willing to let his tiny victory stand, and Bucky too busy trying out all the different foods. Sam indicated that he should try a little of everything, so he did, ignoring the faint roll of his stomach when he swallowed some of it.

The hotdog was good, though. Tasted familiar, even seventy year later. Considering what they’d always joked was in one, he shouldn’t be surprised it would survive. All things considered, it might be the same batch of hotdogs from 1943.

As he was trying to figure out how to demur the rest of the food, his comm chirped softly. “Barnes,” he answered. “Wilson’s with me. Go ahead.”

“We need to move,” Tony said, voice tight. “Morse got in, not close enough to get to Steve, but she said that they’re planning to move cargo to another installation tonight, after closing time.”

He glanced at Sam, and jerked his head towards the tower. _Gotta go_ , he mouthed. “Which installation?” He started walking with ground eating strides, heading back to the condo as quickly as he could without sprinting. 

“She said she couldn’t find out where it was, but someone mentioned the green base?”

Bucky stopped suddenly enough that Sam bumped into him. “Green?” he said, voice wavering. “су́кин сын. Ёб твою́ мать. We need to go _now_.”

“That wasn’t terrifying at all,” Tony muttered. “What’s the green base?”

“I ran a couple times. Last was in the late 80’s. They took me there for reprogramming. It’s under the Palo Verde Nuclear Power Plant.” 

Tony wasn’t stupid, if nothing else. “They’re trying to wipe him.”

“That’s what I get from it. His serum’s stronger, so he’s healing too fast.” He swallowed thickly. “Hang on.” He shoved the earbud at Wilson, and ducked over a trash can, stomach rebelling against both food and the torture that HYDRA was doubtless visiting on Steve.

When his stomach was empty, he wiped his mouth off, and reclaimed the earbud, continuing towards the building. “Have Clint start preflight on the Quinjet, and tell Bruce to suit up. We’re going to have to hit during daylight, and we’re might need the muscle.”

This was Steve’s specialty. Pulling a plan out of his ass on the fly. Of course, usually, it meant Steve doing the stupidest possible thing he could do personally. He’d helped shape those plans. Did his best not to let the dumbass take too many risks. 

Then they were in the elevator (after Sam flatly refused to do seventy flights of stairs), and the door was opening into the penthouse, with a score of people strapping on various tac suits and honest to god armor, in the case of the Asgardians. 

Tony glanced up from where he was sitting on the couch. “I put your new gear on your bed. Stark industries best battle armor.”

He nodded and grabbed the outfit off his sheets. the pants were a little tighter than he’d usually wear, but the material was somehow both soft, and dense, stretching to move with him. He recognized it as the same type of fabric as Natasha’s jumpsuit, and wondered if Stark planned to put him in a catsuit, too. 

There was a t-shirt of a brand he didn’t recognize, but it had the left arm sheared away, and a long sleeve on the other. It also fit snugly, but comfortably. Then came the kevlar jacket, one armed to show off the metal monstrosity. It was lighter than he’d expected, and fit perfectly. The high collar was trimmed in red, with blue threads shot through it. At least the rest was black. After seeing the Iron Man armor, he’d been worried that he’d find red and gold. 

The harness slid on over the coat, and locked into place. Nodding, he grabbed his duffel of weapons and ammo. He’d weapon up on the flight while he gave everyone their missions. 

When he stepped out of his room, Natasha was waiting. “This could be a trap.”

“It could be.”

“But you’re spooked enough that it doesn’t matter?”

“I figure I’ve gotten back most of the memories they’d blocked. But the six months after that installation? Nothing. I remember the wipe--remember that it made everything that I’d ever had done to me before pale. That includes having my arm sawed off while I was conscious. If there’s even a chance that they’re going to try that with Steve, I’m going. Yes, I’m fucking spooked. That place.” He broke off, wiping his mouth. 

“Is that where they sent you after me?” Natasha eyed him warily. 

“Hadn’t been built yet. It was in eighty six. I was sent to Reykjavik to kill Reagan and Gorbachev. The plan was that I would make it look like one of Gorbachev’s cabinet members killed the president, and that the Secret Service had retaliated.”

“What happened?”

“I glitched. I had two memories, one American, one Soviet, and they both fired at once. I froze, then bolted. They caught up to me in Long Island. I hadn’t exactly been quiet about getting there, so they couldn’t ship me out of the country easily, so...Arizona. Since then, they haven’t let me out of cryo for more than a few days at a time. Short mission, wipe, freeze. Nothing more complex.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> солдат. уступать. "Soldier. Yield."  
> миссия? "Mission?"  
> дерьмо "Shit."  
> Ёб твою́ мать. "Fuck your mother." (Equivalent of motherfucker or goddamn it.)
> 
> As always, I can be found on tumblr, under [beanside](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/beanside)


	30. Chapter 30

Natasha nodded, then tapped her ear. “We’re on our way up. Quinjet’s ready. Thor and Iron Man are taking their own transport.” 

Bucky lengthened his stride, until he was clattering up the stairs onto the roof. Barton was lifting the ramp as they stepped into the crowded hold. He slung his guns onto the table, and took the earbud comm unit from Pepper, sliding it into place. 

“Iron Man, Thor? Are you picking me up?”

“Aye,” Thor’s voice came with a fair amount of wind interference, but clear.

“Copy,” Tony’s voice rang out. “What’s the game plan?”

“Split is still going to be the same. Bruce, I want you with my team inside.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“I’m not asking you to trample bystanders. Tony said you have some medical training?”

“A little, but I’m not that kind of doctor.”

“I know.” Bucky pushed his hair back with a sigh. “You’re what I’ve got. Mockingbird managed to get some intel, and it looks like they’re trying to make Steve like I was. Trying to wipe him. It’s not working well, because his serum is healing it too fast.” He swallowed hard, stomach churning again. 

“Jemma was going to join us. She is that kind of doctor,” Natasha said dryly. “But they’re planning to move Steve tonight, so we can’t wait for her.”

“I don’t know what they’re going to have done to him,” Bucky said. “They tried a lot of things on me in the beginning. I don’t know what shape he’ll be in. Once I brief everyone, I can go over some of what they used to break me. You’re going to stay back, out of danger unless we absolutely can’t do it without the Hulk.”

Banner nodded, face still unhappy. 

“I’m sorry. I know what I’m asking you to do,” he said solemnly. “I need Thor, Iron Man, Sif, Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg outside in the lot. I want you to break the hell out of their front door, and I want you to do it as loud as you can.”

“What about me?” Sigrid asked. 

“You’ll be with my team. Natasha, Pepper, Hawkeye and Falcon as well. Once I see what the door looks like, I may know how to get in, but no guarantees. At worst, Pepper, you may be getting us in.”

She smiled wryly. “I can do that. I’ve gotten good at being Tony’s portable welder.”

“Pep, I’m hurt. I see you as much more than a portable welder,” Tony teased. “You’re also my portable heater.”

“How could I be so narrow minded,” she shot back, a fond smile playing over her mouth. 

“What’s the plan once we get in?” 

“Take down any resistance, find a terminal and get a link to Jarvis activated. Take out any resistance.”

“And by take out,” Sam questioned carefully.

Bucky looked at him for a moment. “That’s for you to decide. I’m not leaving anyone to come at my back, but I can’t make that decision. If you want to go non-lethal, it’s your call. Just be sure they’ll stay put til the end or the op.” With a decisive nod, he turned to Sam and quietly detailed exactly what he’d need from the man. 

By the time he was back at his duffel, the quinjet was losing altitude as they came over Minnesota. He started sliding knives into sheaths, and slipping guns into their holsters. as he finished, Natasha slid a familiar shaped bag across the table. “Tony put the stealth cover on it, so you should be good to go, but it comes off pretty easy.”

“I shouldn’t-”

“You don’t know what shape he’s in. If you need to get him out safely, you’re going to be glad you can shove him behind it, and go,” Natasha said reasonably. “Until it’s back in Steve’s hands, it’s yours to use.”

“Fine.” He stepped back and tilted his head against the fuselage of the plane, trying to dredge up the certainty of the Soldier, the calm assurance of the Asset. It wasn’t working today. All he had was his brain circling around, chattering Steve’s name like a hyperactive hamster. 

Just fucking great. He banged his head lightly, and Natasha put her hand on his arm. “You okay?”

“Having trouble getting in the right headspace.”

“Mm. I’d offer my ipod, but somehow I don’t think Swan Lake would hold the same allure for you.”

He smiled. “Probably not.”

“On the other hand... Jarvis. Could you load Tony’s kicking ass playlist and put it in Sergeant Barnes’ earpiece?”

“Certainly, Agent Romanoff.”

A moment later, something metallic sounding ground in his ear. Bucky winced, then relaxed as it segued into a sound that might generously be called music. The singer’s voice wasn’t unpleasant, just different. But the words, and the rhythms! It wasn’t something that Bucky would have liked, once. But he wasn’t the same Bucky Barnes that he’d been.

Once he’d settled, he glanced up at Natasha, nodding his thanks. In the front of the plane, Fandral was braiding Sif’s hair, and she in turn was plaiting Volstagg. “It’s considered good luck before a battle to have a fellow warrior plait your hair,” Sigrid explained. “Only a fool would go into battle with hair completely loose.” She glanced at the other Asgardian’s and shrugged. “A fool or our Prince, that is,” she added, voice gone waspish. 

Bucky considered this for a moment. Even as the Asset that had bothered him. He assumed that the idea was that no one could get close enough to grab his hair. He wasn’t going to bet on it. 

Sigrid eyed him for a moment. “Would you do me the honor?” 

“I’m not very good-” He stopped, but that wasn’t true. He remembered his sisters, plaiting their hair before church or school. “I could do that. How would you like it?”

“However you chose. My hair is not so long as Sif; a low braid probably won’t work.” She sat gracefully in front of him, offering him a white comb, inset with jade and ebony. “When you reach the end of a plait if you will hold it in place, I will tie it off. Or I could try to teach you the charm.”

“I don’t think I can do what you do.”

“Of course you can. Humans have long learned small magics. It’s simply a matter of will,” she said. 

Bucky combed her hair on the side, pulling it into a loose french braid. Sigrid showed him the charm, fixing the hair together as though a rubber band had been pulled tight on it. The next braid snaked along the other side of her head, being pulled carefully back to merge into a final low braid that reached just to her shoulders. 

He tried the charm several times before it took, and even then, it wasn’t particularly tight. Sigrid pronounced it not bad for a mortal, and stood easily and reached for the comb. 

“Nothing too fancy, okay? Just get it out of my face,” he said, tensing as her fingers combed through his hair lightly. 

She murmured something back that he couldn’t understand, and moved to the side, combing through his hair.until the tangles were gone. Then she pulled the sides back into a ponytail, securing them and starting a loose braid that kept the sides back, falling loose to meet a plain, low ponytail that she secured. After a long moment, she tilted her head. “That will do, but it needs something.” 

“Here,” Natasha murmured, offering the sorceress something small in her palm. “Would that work?”

“Yes. Would you like me to do your hair as well, Widow?”  
To his surprise, the Widow nodded. “Sure.” She settled onto the floor in front of the sorceress. “The one thing I wonder--they have Loki’s staff. Not to be all Stark about it, but one touch and that thing ripped Clint right out of his head. Why aren’t they using that?” 

“They cannot. A human can only use the meanest of the stone’s powers. It would burn them alive before they could so much as issue a command.”

“But I used the staff to shut the portal down.”

“Because like recognized like. The stones were created to work in harmony, so they had to be able to utilize each other’s power. That is not the same as using it. It disrupted the field that kept it from the Tesseract. Most likely, they’re merely using it to power the cloaking system. Maybe the reactor.” Sigrid finished Natasha’s hair with a flourish. “Done. Did you really put one over on the Prince of Lies?” she asked.

Natasha’s face clouded. “Yes. But not without him getting some solid hits in.” She stood, walking away to the front of the plane.

Sigrid nodded thoughtfully. “One can not deal in illusions if one cannot see truths. Some may be uncomfortable, Drakov’s daughter.” She gave Bucky a solemn nod. “I will let you get ready for battle,” she said, withdrawing to sit by the end of the plane, away from the other Asgardian’s. He saw Sif glance at her when she moved, like a mouse watching a predator. It must be difficult on Asgard for magic users, Bucky thought. Lonely.

The Quinjet’s engines whined, and Bucky felt their forward motion slow. He felt himself settle as the plane descended. This was a mission. A horribly, terrifyingly important mission, but a mission.

A column of black SUVs, and a troop transport waited at the side of the field, Maria Hill leaning on the hood. The Quinjet settled with barely a bump, and Bucky was the first off, striding over to Maria. 

“Glad you could make it, doll.”

Her eyebrow lifted and Bucky debated covering his balls. If Natasha looked at him like that, he’d be in fear for his life, and Maria didn’t seem any less competent. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Her smile made him exhale hard. “No worries. Good flight?”

“Not bad. Any new intel?” He took the tablet she handed him, glancing over the updates. 

“Morse was able to narrow down where they’re keeping Steve, and give us some confirmation on the layout, but nothing else.”

“And the mall?” 

“In progress. We’re pumping in a harmless, but foul smelling gas, and one of my team is in place to trigger the alarm, and initiate an evac.”

“They’ll know we’re coming,” Bucky stated.

“Did you think they didn’t anyway? You and the former STRIKE Team Delta have been hitting every base in the southeast United States.”

He shrugged, the plates whirring gently. “True. So, what kind of troops you got in those things?”

“About thirty bodies. Best I could scrape up in a couple days,” Maria shrugged. “Unfortunately, there’s still some ex-SHIELD members who hold a grudge at Steve and Natasha for DC.”

Bucky blinked. “What the fuck?”

“A lot of people invested a lot of their lives in SHIELD, me included. They didn’t see the depth of the corruption, how deep Hydra had wormed in. Some of them had their medals pinned on by Pierce personally. It’s a lot to ask your average desk jockey or security agent to swallow. All they care about is that this has fucked up their lives. Exposed them to scrutiny.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I know. You have to realize...” Maria broke off and took a deep breath. “SHIELD wasn’t all that different from Hydra, deep down. We all started out believing that we’d be the ones getting our hands dirty so that the average citizen could stay clean, unaware. _We_ built the helecarriers. _SHIELD_ agreed to the weaponry. HYDRA only wanted to use it. That’s a bitch of a thing to realize about yourself. To know that you were in service to Nazi’s because you were too focused on the ‘greater good’ to think about people as anything but collateral.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “I won’t say I’m sorry that it happened; I’d be on ice or dead. I’m sorry it hurt good people.”

“I’m sorry we contributed to hurting you,” Maria returned. “How’s life with the Avenger’s so far by the way? I had a bet on you strangling Stark in the first 24 hours.”

“Not yet, at least.”

“Give it time,” She said, lips curling in a wry smile. “Hi boss,” she said easily, as Tony walked up. “Nice landing.”

“You do realize that Jarvis can pick up your comms, right?” 

Maria, rather than looking abashed, met the eye slits of the armor. “I know. You’re an asshole, Tony.”

“I am,” he said, and even through the synthesizer that broadcast his voice, he could hear the pleasure the man took in his reputation. It gave Bucky a little hope.

“Are we ready to get moving?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder, where Natasha and Sam had formed up, the same way he imagined they did for Steve. They weren’t his, but for a moment, he felt so desperately grateful that they were willing to have his back.

Without them, he’d have still gone in. He’d have traded himself for Steve in a heartbeat. Better him than Steve. Always. HYDRA would probably have taken the deal. With Insight gone, they would still need someone to be the Fist of HYDRA, and better the one you knew you could break. 

If it came down to it, that was still a back up plan, he let himself realize. Even though the thought of losing everything again--losing Steve again made his stomach churn, and his chest go tight, he would do it. 

He’d rather burn the ever living hell out of HYDRA instead. Rip it out by the roots and salt the earth until it couldn’t sprout another head ever.


	31. Chapter 31

Maria waved him towards the SUV, and he slid into the passenger seat, still flipping through the updated intel. Nothing there changed his plan in any major way. This wasn’t going to be stealth or assassination. It was going to be a fucking bloodbath. Their only hope was to keep Hydra focused on the outer entrance while they slipped in the back. 

As they approached the turnoff for the mall, he could see the people leaving, a string of cars inching along away from the danger. Overhead, dark clouds swept in at Thor’s bidding, and he could feel the charge building in the air along the metal arm. As they approached the mall, half the convoy split off, and he took a deep breath. Showtime. 

Maria had little interest in parking properly, jerking the SUV onto the pavement, and right up to the entrance. 

Bucky glanced her way. “Nice parking.”

“I kind of figured I shouldn’t let the guy with the metal arm go wandering around in this,” she grinned at him, gesturing towards an especially dark cloud that was already lighting up inside. 

“Thank you,” he said, touching an imaginary hat. “It’s appreciated.”

The door of the mall opened, and Melinda May strode out, hand resting on her sidearm. “Mall’s almost cleared out. You’re clear to go.”

Maria gave her a quick nod, and glanced at Bucky. “On your order, Sergeant.” 

He touched his ear. “Iron Man, Thor? Are you in position?”

“Waiting for your call.”

“Let’s get in place.” He followed May, jaw clenched, down the overly lit back hallways, to the amusement area. Something nagged at his mind, and he took a moment to focus.

“Wait.” He held a fist up to alert the team behind him of his stop. “Back up.” 

He walked back, behind where Natasha and Sam were, glancing at the wall next to Clint. He ran his hand over the blank stretch of wall. “Natasha, come over here.”

“What is it?”

“Do you have any of those little discs you shorted my arm out with?” 

She dug in a compartment on her belt, and held out two of them flat in her hand. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that this reminds me of the layout of the base outside Красноярск.”

She considered it. “The industrial park or the school?”

“Industrial park,” he said. 

Natasha laid her head against the wall. “You’re right.” 

“Where do you think?” 

“Mm.” Her eyes lit on Clint, and she smiled. “I need one of your ears.”

“Aw, Tasha, no. They’re brand new!” Even as he complained, he reached up to his ear, and slipped his com out, offering it to her. 

“I’m not going to break it.” She raised an eyebrow at Bucky, and he smiled encouragingly at Clint. 

“That makes me feel much better,”Clint grumbled. “Just don’t, okay? I don’t have spare hearing aids with me.”

Natasha leaned against the wall, pressing the hearing aid to it, and leaning close. “It’s definitely here. She moved around a little, pausing to listen closely. After a moment, she moved backwards. “Right here.” She handed Clint his hearing aid, and backed away from the wall,gesturing for Maria and May to do the same. 

“Okay. Team A, you are clear to engage,” he said firmly. 

Even in the bowels of the mall, they could hear the sharp roll of thunder that announced the beginning of the attack. He waited, judging the rhythm, and when Thor’s next strike hit, he drew back his fist, and slammed it into the wall. 

It sunk in, about wrist deep, then stopped with a clang as he hit something hard. “Good call, Tash.” 

Withdrawing his hand, he stepped back, allowing Natasha to slide her much smaller arm into the gap, feeling around. “Almost--There,” She turned back with a smile, and the wall slid back, collapsing into itself and revealing a large door. “Fucking Hydra. What is it with concealing it’s fucking elevators?”

“Not an elevator. Escape stairs.” 

“That’s an Adamantium alloy door. I don’t think we brought anything that’ll get through it.”

“No. Only way through is to know the passcode,” Natasha said. 

James nodded. “Or to pass the retinal scan.” 

He stepped up to the door and pressed the recessed panel. Sickly green light emanated from it. “State your name,” Zola’s mechanized voice said. 

“Asset,” Bucky replied, letting his voice go flat. “код: зимний солдат”

“Greetings, Soldier. Please enter your code.” 

”83075532.” As he said the numbers, it occurred to him that they’d used his fucking service number, backwards. Fucking Zola.

“Accepted. Please proceed down the stairs and follow the blue lights on the the left. Your handler will meet you at the holding chamber.”

The metal door opened soundlessly, and after a moment, fluorescent lighting flickered to life in the stairway. 

“This could be a trap,” he said slowly, glancing at Natasha and Sam. 

“Or, we could slip in and get the jump on them,” Sam agreed. 

“Either way, we’re likely to hit resistance,” Natasha said reasonably. “But since they didn’t tell you about this base, they probably didn’t anticipate you showing up.”

“True. Okay, you stay up here, and I’ll go scout.” He unholstered the shield and his sidearm, slowly creeping down the stairs. When he reached the first landing, he ducked his head out quickly, glancing down. “I can’t see the bottom. It turns again,” he said softly.

“Your call, Barnes,” May reminded him. 

He considered his options for a moment, then walked back up the stairs. “May, take a troop, and go down to the original point. Take some explosives. The rest are with me. Follow the original plans, and we’ll try to meet up. Keep in contact.”  
m, mission is a go at your discretion.”

It was barely a breath later that thunder shook the building so hard that the lights flickered. . “Jesus,” Sam muttered. 

“May, we’re in. You’re go,” he said softly, waving his troop down, and in the direction that Morse’s intel had pointed them. The blue lights helpfully danced in sequence down the hall. 

“Nice of them to point the way,” Sam said, voice quiet. 

“The Soldier was not known for higher level functioning,” Bucky said. They started slowly down the hall, Nat and Sam moving to quickly clear any rooms they passed. 

As he moved to the first intersection, he heard a low rhythmic squeak, and called a silent halt. The noise moved closer, and a cart wheeled into the intersection, a pile of terrifyingly familiar implements on it. 

The tech behind the cart came into view, and Bucky moved quickly, wrapping his metal arm around the man’s throat, cutting off any noise he could make, and settling the shield into place on his back. Natasha stepped into the hallway, and the man started squirming harder. “Shh. She’s not your worry right now.” He tossed Natasha the man’s keycard, and shook him firmly. “Where’s the Captain?” 

The man shook his head, and Natasha frowned. The struggles grew more desperate, and Bucky finally loosened his grip enough for him to get a raspy breath. “If you scream, I’m going to show you what each and every one of those things on the tray is for,” he growled. “Where is Steve?”

“Lab.” He pointed in the direction the cart was heading. “That way.”

Bucky nodded. “Good boy. Show me, and you might survive this.” He shifted his grip, holding the tech by the scruff of his neck, the touch of metal a silent threat. He could snap the man’s neck without a thought, or crush his spine into fragments.

As they rounded the corner, a gunshot rang out, and his hostage dropped. Natasha returned fire, and the fight was on. It quickly became obvious that their diversion had worked. They only faced a couple troops of security, and they seemed terrified of the Winter Soldier. 

It probably didn’t help that as his human shield fell, he grabbed a sharp implement that memory told him was a leucotome, used to slip under the eyelid and forced through the orbital bone to slice the connections of the prefrontal cortex, to remove personality from the patient.

To be fair, Potts wasn’t looking at all happy with him at that moment, either. Hydra’s agents were definitely screaming more than her, though. 

“We’ve met resistance,” May’s voice crackled through his earpiece. “They had this entrance guarded.”

“Copy. We’re headed in your direction, so hopefully we’ll be able to help you out,” Hawkeye replied between firing off arrows at the agents.

A shrill scream brought his head around, just in time to see a flaming agent running away from them. Pepper looked back at him, jaw firmly set, and nodded. “Hawkeye, keep an eye on our six.”

They continued forward, following the hallway towards where he hoped May’s team was pinned down. A door opened down the corridor, and a tall blonde woman strode out. She glanced their way and froze, hands held to the side to show she wasn’t armed. 

“Hold fire,” Natasha barked. “That’s Morse.”

He lowered his gun slowly, and Natasha raised a hand to signal the woman. 

Without hesitation, she brought her gun up, aiming at Bucky’s head. “Natasha?” he muttered. 

Natasha stepped forward, hand on her sidearm. “Morse. He’s with us.”

Even with Natasha’s confirmation, it was a long moment before she lowered her gun. “What the fuck, Widow?”

“I take it Coulson didn’t mention that?”

“Nope. And I will be kicking his ass for the ten years he just took off my life,” Morse returned. “Fine, whatever. Fist of Hydra, on our side.” She visibly shook herself, and turned towards Bucky. “Sorry.”

“No worries.”

“Mockingbird, James. James, Bobbi Morse.”

“Yeah. Awesome. This way.” She turned back to glance at Natasha. “If I get shot in the back, I’m haunting you.”

“He’s standing right there,” Sam pointed out. 

“And I’m not really dealing with that,” Bobbi returned. “Also, hi.”

“Sam Wilson,” Sam said, offering his hand.

“Can we get you a date later?” Bucky muttered. “Move out.”

Morse looked to Natasha for confirmation, but headed back down the hallway. Which was good, Bucky thought. RIght now, he was the closest he’d been to Steve since that day on the Helicarrier. So close. Just an army of HYDRA between them. 

He moved up behind Morse, watching as her shoulders tensed. She didn’t like him at her back. Too fucking bad. The building shook again, and a low klaxon began to sound. “What does that mean?” he asked.

“It means that your Alpha team just got past the foyer, so to speak. It also means that anyone we encounter is going to be armed, and that all techs must be accompanied by a strike team. The lab is going to be a bitch to get to.”

As they walked, they started to hear gunfire more frequently, coming both from ahead and behind them. He motioned for Maria to keep an eye on the rear with Hawkeye.

Morse held up a hand, halting them at an intersection. “Let me take a look.” She slid a mirror out of her sleeve, feeding it past the edge of the wall. Even from his spot behind her, Bucky could see the Strike team heading their way. “Shit,” she murmured on the exhale. 

“Tilt it down just a little?” 

She obliged and he studied the group for a moment, coming up with and discarding a few plans. Natasha stood next to him, watching the group advance cautiously. 

“When I go, give it to a count of five, and then start shooting. Aim high.”

“What the hell-” Morse started. Natasha lifted her guns.

Baring his teeth in a smile, he hoisted the shield and stepped out, rushing the team. Bullets flew, pinging off the shield, and he dropped to his knees, letting his forward motion carry him into the front guard, lifting it as they fell so that they sprawled on the ground, tangling with the others. His metal arm flashed, the blade in his hand soundlessly carving into calves and severing tendons. 

The hail of gunfire started behind him, and Bucky moved, staying low. The shield took out kneecaps and the knife bit into flesh as he spun. 

When the whole troop bleeding on the floor, and the gunfire ceased, he slowly came to his feet, motioning to his team. Natasha gave him an approving smile, Sam hot on her heels. “You’re bleeding,” Sam murmured, nodding at a graze on his arm that had bounced off the edge of the shield. 

Bucky looked down at the sluggishly bleeding scrape. “It’ll heal.” 

“Yeah, give it here. Sam pulled a bandage out of his pack. “I wouldn’t put up with that shit from Steve, and I’ve watched him heal a gunshot.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and held out his arm, letting the other man tie a quick pressure bandage on it. 

“He does the exact same thing, too. Keep telling him that his eyes are going to get stuck looking at the top of his brain. Is that too tight?”

“Nah, it’s good.” The moved out again, with Morse stealing sideways glances at him. “Take a picture,” he griped. 

“Sorry. That was just...impressive.”

He grunted. “How much further to the labs?” 

“About another hundred meters, we’ll get to them. I don’t know exactly where they have him. They seem to have a lot of labs.”

You have no idea, he thought. “Usually the med labs are the furthest in,” Bucky said. “Makes it easier to control access in and out.” Armory is usually on the outer ring. Easier to access for troops, better to stop any escapees from the med lab.” 

Morse’s face went blank, like she was desperately trying to hide whatever she was thinking. She wasn’t quite as accomplished as Natasha, but it wasn’t a bad try. It didn’t quite cover the pity, though. 

With a soft sigh of annoyance, he shrugged. “Engineering is usually next to the biolabs. Made it easy to send me to the techs for repair.” 

Movement at the end of the next corridor caught his eye, and he shoved Morse behind him and raised the shield just in time to deflect a couple of rounds. “Shit. Clint?”

An arrow flew past his head within seconds and the far wall of the corridor exploded in debris. “Go,” Hawkeye yelled, nocking another arrow. “I’ll cover you.” 

Trusting his team, Bucky pushed forward, ignoring the report of bullets and arrows that filled the air. The bullets from the other direction stopped, and it was only the work of a few minutes to clear the hallway of a few stragglers.

As he stepped into the new corridor, his steps slowed, _something_ nagging at a corner of his mind. A trigger? Something the Red Room hadn’t implanted? Instinct? As though he had any instincts that hadn’t been bastardized and twisted. 

“James?” Natasha murmured. “Problem?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“You’re going the wrong way,” Morse informed him. “Labs are down here.” She gestured down the way they’d been heading.

Sighing, he looked carefully down the hall. Something about it... “This way,” he finally said. The itching at the back of his thoughts eased as he strode forward. 

After another curve, it ended at a door. “This could be a trap,” Morse pointed out.

She wasn’t wrong. “Back up and stay behind me.” 

Before any of them could protest further, he pressed the palm of his metal hand to the panel next to the door. 

It chirped softly, and slid open. “Asset,” the computerized Zola intoned, “Please remove your weapons and place them on the table.” 

The door slid open with a soft “whoosh,” taking with it any cover that it might have provided. The stark, white room with a single chrome table was empty. Bucky stepped forward slowly, clearing the corners. He walked through it, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. 

This had been his life. Herded from one station to another, like cattle. And like cattle, there was always some asshole with a shock baton if he stepped out of line. 

The next door opened--another blinding white room, this one with a series of hooks hanging on the wall. “Remove your gear and clothing,”Zola intoned. 

“Jesus,” Clint muttered. 

Bucky didn’t turn, didn’t want to see the pity that waited for him. As he approached the next door, he stopped. “When this door opens, don’t follow right away. I’m going to try to wedge them with the shield, but if I fuck up, I don’t want any of you stuck in there.”

“Should you be going in, then?” Sam asked. 

“I’m used to it,” Bucky said flatly. 

“James, I think you should rethink your plan,” Natasha said firmly. “This doesn’t make any sense for you to go in there alone.”

“Tash, cover back here,” Clint said. “I’ll get the far door when it opens.” He pulled a thick shafted arrow out of the quiver and stepped up close to Bucky. “This is a crappy plan, by the way. You should have one of us go in behind you.”

After a moment, Bucky nodded, and stepped towards the door. Immediately, it opened with a sucking noise. “Okay, fine.Get ready to shoot.”

He wedged the shield into the track of the door and stepped forward, shuddering against his will at the sight of the black drain set in the middle of the floor. As he reached it, the door behind him tried to close, but the shield held it open. 

It didn’t stop the blast of ice water that hit him in the back. Or the telltale whine of the pumps coming on line. As he stepped forward, a red light flashed, and Zola’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Asset, move to the center of the room for decontamination.”

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,” Bucky chanted, shivering under the onslaught of cold water, trying to brace himself for the next step in the process. 

“Door’s not opening,” Clint yelled. “Get out of there.”

“It’ll open,” he returned. “Just get ready.” The next jet of water hit him squarely in the face, and he choked, stumbling backwards. 

Fuck. He couldn’t be on the floor when the bleach cycled. Bucky dragged himself to his feet, stumbling. He was almost to the door. 

Warmth touched his back, and he nearly toppled again at the relief. Steam filled the room, and Bucky looked behind him. Pepper Potts smiled serenely. “I’ve got it.”

“Get back,” Bucky said sharply. “It’s going to--” Even as he spoke, a sharp smelling liquid began to flow from nozzles in the ceiling. “Shit. Get out of the center of the room.” He got some of the liquid in his mouth and spit immediately, his lips and tongue burning. 

“What the fuck?” Pepper cursed. “Is it flammable?” 

Bucky paused for a moment. “I don’t know.” 

She concentrated for a moment, then shook her head. “No luck.”

“Get back out.” He started to step back, but before he could get to the door the air changed, turning colder. The jets slowed, then stopped completely, icicles dripping down. Bucky looked back, to see Sigrid moving her hands in a graceful pattern, fingers tinged blue with ice. For a moment, it looked her skin shivered blue, distorting. Then, it settled, and her hands stilled. 

“Jesus? What was that shit?” Clint breathed. 

“Cleanser. Mostly formaldehyde. They used to use bleach, but it degraded the arm too fast.” 

He glanced behind him at Clint’s face, waiting for the I-told-you-so. The other man shook his head as Sam slipped into the room. “You doing okay?”

“What do you think, Wilson?”

“I’ll take that as a no. What will the next room be?”

“Probably tech. They used to do testing to see if I’d messed up the arm at all,” he said, hearing the way his voice flattened. “Then, it could be a cryo chamber, or it could be the med bay. Probably cryo.” 

The earpiece clicked, indicating that one of the other teams was coming on their frequency. “Barnes,” Tony’s voice sounded a little bit winded. “We’ve hit heavy resistance, and Thor’s down.” 

“How the fuck?”

“They’re using some sort of tranquilizer. Hit him right in the chest, and he went down. He’s not breathing great, and I’d like to get him to Banner, but they’ve got us pinned down outside of R&D with some serious firepower.”

“I know where that is,” Morse said sharply. “I can get us there.” 

James nodded. “We’re on our way.” He gave a last look at the other door, and cursed silently. There was no way of telling if they had Steve this way, but it was familiar. 

He turned, considering the options. “Can we come out behind the attackers?” he asked Morse.

“Yeah.”

“We’re going to need a distraction.” He looked back at Sigrid. “Think you’re up for that?” 

“Yes. I rather believe so.” 

“Move out.” Morse moved quickly, leading them down narrow hallways. When they came out into the main hall, the Hydra team was creeping forward, undaunted by the repulsor beams and gunfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished writing this fucker on Thursday. Now, the always difficult question: do I post all at once, or stay on schedule? (I'm impatient as hell, so y'know. It's doubtful I'll wait that long. Again, thank you all so much. Everyone who has kudo-ed, read, commented. It's been a really crappy year, personally, but it's been wonderful to have words, and people I wanted to share them with again. 
> 
> Probably, in a few days, if anyone's interested, I'll be soliciting prompts on my tumblr and my dreamwidth. [Here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/beanside) and [here](http://beanside.dreamwidth.org/) respectively. 
> 
> As always, ask me anything, friending is welcome.


	32. Chapter 32

Bucky glanced back. “Okay. Here’s the plan. Sigrid, you distract them. Keep them facing forward. We’ll hit them with everything we’ve got. No explosions, we’re too close to the other team here. Once we clear a path, Thor’s buddies’ll get him out.”

“Thor’s injured?” Sigrid asked, voice taking a sharp edge.

“They hit him with a tranquilizer,” Bucky said. “We need to get him outside.”

Sigrid nodded tightly, and stepped to the hallway, Bucky at her side, shield at the ready. Her hands moved in a sharp arc, and suddenly, the air in front of the soldiers seemed to waver, shifting. 

The soldiers yelled in surprise, footsteps faltering. Bucky motioned to his team, and they slid out silently. 

Caught by surprise, a third of the Hydra team went down in the first volley. Then, they turned, and the battle was joined in earnest. It became a race to see who would run out of ammunition first, and Hydra had home field advantage. 

Sigrid was surprisingly useful in battle, illusions keeping Hydra off balance. 

During a moment of relative quiet, he saw Volstagg stumbling from behind cover, Thor over his shoulders. 

Despite the renewed volley of repulsor beams, Tony even stepping out a little to give a better target, someone saw them. Volstagg went down to his knees, blood pooling from a shot in his thigh. A moment later, Hydra troops were grabbing Thor, starting to drag the prone figure. 

Bucky couldn’t really have told you what happened next. There was a decidedly fierce growl from behind him, and green-tinged power surged past them, sending the Hydra forces flying into walls, forward. 

Sigrid brushed by Bucky, robes morphing into an emerald armor before it flashed again, turning into a dove gray. 

Stark, hearing the sudden drop in gunfire, ducked back into the hallway, where Bucky waved for him to follow Thor. 

Clint bolted past Bucky, following after the sorceress. “It was him, Nat, I swear to god,” he yelled. 

Bucky glanced back and caught a worried look on Natasha’s face. “Go,” he said curtly, heading towards the far end, where Tony’s crew had been. She nodded, hurrying Barton’s wake. 

By the time he finished off the slowly recovering Hydra troop, which ate the rest of his ammo, the rest of Tony’s team had come out. To his surprise, it included May and her band.

He looked after Natasha, then back at the wounded. He couldn’t do it. They trusted him. He bent, next to May, and held the gauze that she was struggling with in place. “You know how to get out of here?” he asked. 

She tied it expertly. “Yeah.”

“Good. Can you get them out?”

“We’re good. Go find Thor and Cap. We’ll get the rest of them out.”

Even as she finished talking, he was heading down the hallway, shield at the ready.“Nat where are you?” he asked, touching the communicator. 

When there was no reply, he tried again. “Stark? Where is everyone?”

“I’m down the hall, fifth right. Not sure about the rest.”

A sharp blast of noise made him flinch. “Widow do you copy?”

Another clanging noise, and a report of her guns. “Found him.”

Bucky held his breath. “Found Barton?”

“Steve, Fou--” her voice cut off with a grunt of pain, and static.

“Stark?”

“On it.”

Bucky ran. It was a sad state of affairs that he only realized he was being followed when the person took a breath.

He spun low, hand on his knife, pulling the shield in, ready to jam it into someone’s jaw. 

Wilson jerked to a stop, hands up. “Just me, man.”

“I thought I told everyone to get the wounded out.” He stood up and started running again.

“Yeah, and _I_ said I would have your six.” He tensed as another clatter came through the comms.

“I'm here,” Tony said tightly. “Barnes, we need you now.”

More clanging came through the comm, followed by Tony's shout of pain.

He glanced back at Wilson, who waved. “Go.”

He ran faster than he'd run in his life. The Winter Soldier didn't fear. Bucky was fucking terrified. At the fifth hallway, he rounded it at speed, bouncing off the wall as he ran.

“Which lab?” he asked.

A metal tray flew out of a door ahead, accompanied by an indecipherable shout. 

“Never mind.”

He slowed, turning into the lab, and found a bizarre tableau.

The first thing he saw was the Chair, or part of it. Tony was behind it, standing in front of an unconscious Natasha. His left arm was smoking, cradled against his stomach. The metal of his suit was dented and twisted. Hydra agents were sprawled on the ground, bleeding.

Across from Tony, Steve, half naked, waving an iv pole, eyes wide, terrified. Shit.

“Steve,” he said softly, gently.

Blue eyes landed on him and for a moment, his stomach dropped at the lack of recognition. _Please no._

“C'mon, Stevie, put down the pole and let me come over there. It’s okay now. Just settle down.” He stepped forward slowly, metal hand out, like he was soothing a feral dog. 

“I don’t-” Steve brandished the pole, other hand gripping his hair like he’d rip it out of his head. 

“It’s okay. Hydra had you, you’re safe now. Look, I’m here, Tony’s here. You’re okay.” He stepped closer slowly.

“Don’t!” 

Bucky dodged back a step as the pole clanged against his wrist. Fuck. “Stevie, come on, look at me. You know me.”

Steve stumbled a little and leaned back against the counter. “Who-” He shook his head, like he was trying to clear out the cobwebs. 

“You’ve known me forever.” He swallowed hard. Hot tears prickled the back of his eyes “Steve, please.”

Steve’s eyes widened. His mouth formed a “B.”

“That’s it. Bucky. It's me. See, I've got your shield for you.” he held the disc out, making sure that Steve could see the colors.

Steve didn't even glance at it. “Bucky?” He asked, voice still confused. 

“Yeah, Bucky. I'm gonna come over there, okay?” He laid the shield on the counter and took a step towards Steve.

Stark made a low noise, and Bucky waved him off. “Can you get Nat out?”

He didn't wait for an answer, just moved in closer to Steve, idly noting the silvery clamp, still hanging off his right wrist, and the iv, still stuck in his arm, tube still connected to a bag that was hanging on the IV pole. The almost empty bag was a familiar color. One of the strongest anti-psychotic and hallucinogen combinations they had. The idea was that it would lead to pliancy and suggestibility. Didn't look like it was working too well for Steve. “It's okay. I've got you,” Bucky murmured.

“Hurts, Buck. Can’t think.”

Bucky couldn't quite hold back the sob. “I know. I know,” he soothed. “Let me help you.”

He was close now, almost in arm's reach. 

Steve looked a moment from bolting, so he slowed again. 

Steve lunged, grabbing at Bucky’s shoulder. He tensed. Then, Steve’s arms were around Bucky, hanging on like the world’s clingiest teddy bear. 

Bucky wasn’t complaining. He brought them to the ground. easing Steve onto his lap, and stroked his sweaty hair. “It's okay now.” In the back of his mind, he noted that Wilson had arrived, and was standing guard by the door.

Steve rested his head on Bucky's shoulder, cheek resting on the thick cord of scar tissue, and he could feel tears against his skin.

He reached over with the flesh hand and slid the Iv out. It usually took about twenty minutes for the drugs to clear his system. He'd be surprised if Steve didn't go faster. “I got you, pal.”

“God, it really is you,” Steve murmured, lifting his head. His eyes were bright and his face blotchy, but goddamn he was the best thing Bucky had seen.

“It's me. This ain’t the end of the line, Rogers.”

Steve crumpled on a sob, arms going around him again. Maybe not a teddy bear. Maybe a koala bear. Or a sloth. He had no idea when he would have seen either of those things. 

He kept petting Steve's hair, running his hand down his naked back, and ignored the tears falling from his own eyes.


	33. Chapter 33

Epilogue

Later, Bucky would remember the rest of the day as one big blur. He remembered the torturous walk to the exit, Wilson carrying the shield. Before they made it to the door, Thor stumbled out of a lab, an arm around Clint. When Bucky had asked about Sigrid, Clint growled profanity.

Then, they were outside, and he was helping Steve onto a stretcher and watching Bruce and Jemma fuss over him. 

Natasha had met him at the door with the remaining SHIELD agents, and they’d cleared every inch of the place. By the end of it, Bucky was sure of two things. There were no more Hydra agents in the place, and the Scepter was no where to be seen. By the time they finished, the sun was reaching its zenith, heading into afternoon.

When they were packed back in the Quinjet, he was exhausted, seeing as his “day” had just lasted approximately 40 hours. The Asset had gone up to 90 hours without loss of function. Bucky felt like he had been run over by the Quinjet. After a brief, somewhat terse discussion with Tony, they headed back to Chicago for debrief and (god, he hoped) a nap. With Steve safely aboard the Bus with Jemma and Banner watching his vitals, it felt like every moment of the last few months had rolled up and crashed on him. 

He dragged himself down from the roof, and stopped at the kitchen long enough to drink a bottle of water, and slowly chew a protein bar. Then, he drug himself into the bedroom and managed to get some of his tac gear off before he fell into bed. 

Even nightmares were no match for the exhaustion that was dragging him down. Night had fallen by the time he finally lifted his head off the pillow, fuzzy from more sleep than he’d had in seventy years. 

He stretched slowly, and froze as he registered the soft breathing next to him. Holding his breath, he rolled over, wishing that his tac gear wasn’t across the room, dropped in his haste to crawl into bed. 

Even in the dim lighting, he could see the soft rise and fall of Steve’s chest. He stilled, unsure if he was having a nightmare after all, waiting, breathless.

Steve stirred, eyes opening slowly, like he could feel Bucky’s eyes. He blinked, head rolling towards Bucky, a smile touching his lips.

For a second, it could have been a hundred nights before. Then, Steve’s eyes focused, and his jaw tightened. “I’m sorry. I must have fallen asleep.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked stupidly. “I thought they were taking you to New York.”

Steve rubbed a hand over his hair, resting on the back of his neck. “They were. I, uh. I needed to be here.”

“Oh. Shouldn’t Banner be watching you?”

Steve shrugged. “He came with me. Just. Jeez. I couldn’t--I had to be sure it was real.”

“Sorry,” Bucky said, mouth twisting.

“No, God. Bucky. I couldn’t believe that you had really been there.” Steve’s face was open, every emotion right there in his eyes. 

“Jesus, Steve.”

“No, I mean, I didn’t know--Tony told me you were okay. That you were working with Natasha and Clint.” Steve looked at the ceiling, swallowing, and Bucky could see the shine of tears.

Crap. “It wasn’t you, pal. I just needed.” He paused, swallowing. “I did a lot of things, Steve. So much blood on me. Your blood.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered, Buck.” 

“It mattered to me, alright? I thought I needed...to be cleaner,” he said, rubbing his eyes with his flesh hand. 

“And now?”

Bucky gave a laugh that was half sigh. “Now. I guess I realized that didn’t matter so much.”

“Yeah?”

“You need someone watching your six. Sam can’t do it all.” He stopped, shrugged. “If you-”

“Yes,” Steve said instantly. “Yes. I want you next to me.”

“I’m fucked up. It’s not going to be that simple.”

“I don’t care. I’ll take you however I can get you. I did this without you.” Steve sighed. “I think I’m pretty fucked up too, Buck.”

“I’ve heard Sam knows something about that. Maybe he has some thoughts?” 

This time, Steve’s laugh was real. “I think Sam has a lotta thoughts on that.”

Buck reached out his flesh hand, laying it carefully on the bed, waiting. “So, together?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.” Steve took his hand, eyes crinkling in the way Bucky remembered in a thousand memories. “I’d like that a lot.”

Bucky found himself smiling back. “Me too.” He paused for a moment. “It was never something that we really said, but you know I love you, right?” 

Steve’s smile got impossibly wider. “Love? As in present tense?” he teased.

Bucky snorted, feeling like something in his chest was breaking loose, floating. “Did I stutter, punk?”

“Nope. I love you, too. Jerk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for everything! Hope you enjoy.


End file.
